#they’re building a foundation for love and it makes me so happy

[buckley-y]

tommy nagging his evan to go to bed and stop picking at his skin was so important because they’re in a relationship!! that’s what couples do!!!

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter ten: part two

“i won’t die for love but ever since i met you you could have my heart and i would break it for you.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: nothing scary to report here — welcome to your happy ending 💖

word count: 8k

author’s note: cherished ones… i can’t believe we’re finally here at the end 🥲 it’s taken me much longer than anticipated to get this out, but i hope it’s worth the wait. allow me to extend my sincere gratitude to you all for hanging in there and going on this journey with me and this series. this started out as pure self-indulgence and turned into something much more along the way and i hope this is received by you as the gift i intended it to be. they’re not off the album i used as the platform for this series, but feel free to listen to rain and take me back to eden by sleep token, which i listened to A LOT while writing this. thank you again for all of your kindness and support. i truly don’t think i could have finished this without it 💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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The last couple days had been… good.

Vaggie had approached you the morning after your little sleepover with Angel to see if you’d actually take her up on the offer of managing the hotel’s books. It was a welcome distraction, easily falling back into the routine of your old work. And honestly, their records keeping system needed a complete overhaul. It kept you busy and focused, hours passing like minutes as you honed in on creating the foundations of your system.

Funny how in Hell the work you had always approached with a level of disdain in life had become something to look forward to. Something that was all yours. It was nice. Familiar.

Ironic.

You also hadn’t gone to the bar — the biggest improvement, or at least the one you were happiest about. Feeling more like yourself again and less like your father, who had been no stranger to bouts of liquored-up sulking. It was not a way you wanted to remember him by, nor make a habit of for the eons to come. And beyond just feeling better without alcohol in your system, it was great to see Husk in a more friendly capacity again. Haunting his bar in the way you did wasn’t something you were ever planning to subject either of you any time soon. 

You were regaining a level of comfortability in your room as well. Sleeping better in your bed, which had been difficult to do. For the first few days you slept on the loveseat, where you’ve now spent the last two nights curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.

It was a decent distraction, but thoughts of Alastor still plagued you. Try as you might, it was hard for them not to. He felt so present as you went about your day despite maintaining the separation; feeling his aura hovering around you like a sixth sense. You wanted to ask Husk and Niffty if they felt it like you did — if at all — but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet to do so.

What if they said no?

It was too embarrassing even to think of. The possibility of it being some kind of adverse affect from sleeping with him making your blood rush to your face. 

Maybe I took a piece of him, too… 

The heat on your cheeks intensified at the thought. Isn’t that exactly what had happened?

Sure, in a literal sense he had been the one to take a piece of you. But in return, you had witnessed him in yet another state that no one else — in this building, at least — ever had. Just the fact that he had let you help undress him… That wasn’t something you look lightly, even at the peak of your anger toward him. The nervous way your heart fluttered against your ribs at the memory only further proved the point.

You wanted the opportunity to do it again. Undress him, that is. 

What followed after wasn’t of much consequence; you’d be satisfied just the same. Whether that was helping him out of his day clothes and into pajamas or preparing him to pound you into the mattress — either result was made from the same circumstance. You found you had enjoyed it even more than dressing down his bed for the evening, which had always been a nearly meditative part of your day.

Or, well… it used to be.

Did he even bother with that now? Hell, did he ever? Or was it just more busywork? If it was… you missed it.

Taking care of Alastor was tedious at times but it hadn’t been all bad. He was petulant too, which is probably why he was always deflecting and pointing the finger in your face. But past his venom there was charm. His euphemisms and anecdotes. Grumbling into the newspaper with his ears downcast whenever he came across an unpleasant article, which happened more often than not. 

He enjoyed his coffee black and extra hot, but god forbid if it was burnt. That was one of the first things you had been tasked with perfecting, and mercifully, had been able to accomplish. Alastor never made you handle his food, not out of lack of trust but courtesy. Due to the gruesome reality of what he enjoyed eating, it wasn’t a chore he ever charged you with. And you’d busy yourself with cleaning while he ate to allow him as much privacy as possible. 

As much as he adored the structure of his morning routine, beyond that the day was his for the taking. Living the monotonous life that you had, it was admirable. Sometimes inspiring. He had a mischievous, opportunistic outlook on existence — no doubt a quality that followed him into the afterlife — while you had been (presumably) buried jaded and trepidatious.

He was… fun. Even when he was irritating. 

Before Rosie pawned you off on him, the last time you had ever felt something close to fun was killing your grandmother. A horrifying revelation, but true, though that had more to do with the satisfaction you felt from it than anything. But fun was something that was right at your fingertips with Alastor, when you looked back on the last couple weeks. He had quite the proclivity for antics when he wasn’t being crushed by the weight of his self-imposed grandeur.

The memory of when he brought you back to the alley the day after what you had done came to mind. His inspection of the bag you’d left behind had upset you so much in the moment, but now all you can remember is the glimmer in his eyes. The nearly childlike glee in his fanged smile. Sure, it had been at your expense, but that was how he liked to joke. Satire and whimsy adorned with the pretty bow of his voice and charm.

But his jokes were sometimes too one-sided. His delivery too harsh and actions… demeaning. It wasn’t a facet he aimed at you often but the sting of his cruelty ran deep, almost to the bone. Your hand came up to your throat, the pain in your neck only barely subsided. It had been impossible to tell if the chain had bruised you under all of Alastor’s love bites, but if you were being honest with yourself, there was no way it hadn’t. If even just a little.

You made due with covering yourself up. Managing to find some high-collared button up shirts left to rot in the laundry room. Nothing a good washing wasn’t able to fix. And as the days passed and the marks faded, you were able to transition back into more familiar (and revealing, in comparison) pieces of your wardrobe.

Still, being left to your own devices when Alastor had been the one responsible for not only the marks but ruining the dress that would’ve easily solved your problems with its modesty nicked at you. Not that you had expected gifts after the argument, but considering how he made you wear that dress as uniform there was no way he didn’t have plans to provide a replacement that morning. But it never came. 

Instead he had given you a threat and left you on the floor in nothing but a towel, feeling used and humiliated and alone. And yet here you were, with a book in your hand you hadn’t absorbed the last few pages of because your mind was busy remembering the feeling of removing Alastor’s coat.  

Or how disheveled and boyish he looked the morning you went into his room without permission and found him in bed. The strain in his eyes before you walked into Valentino’s arms. His drawn brows and open, kiss-swollen mouth when he made you his own on the bed right behind you. That face would haunt you for the rest of your afterlife.

But there was another face that earned the honor, too. An expression that eclipsed even your grandmother’s worst sneer. Was what you said to him that morning really so outrageous that it had warranted such wrath and disdain? Alastor had been in quite a decent mood too, before the conversation took a turn. Not that it made you feel any better, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something bigger than that. You had copped attitude before and Alastor had either laughed it off as a mild tantrum or course-corrected you before you even had a chance to realize it.

Beyond that, there were also the things he had done after you fell asleep, face buried in his scarred chest. The medicine he had waiting at the ready for when you inevitably woke up from the ache of his bite, which he had taken the liberty of cleaning and bandaging. He had more than likely done it by hand as well, the same as when he tended to it on your bed that awful morning. No magic, no minions. Despite being the least he could do since he inflicted the wound, that didn’t mean he had to do it himself. But he did.

Your stomach turned thinking about it. The force of his anger just didn’t match up with the efforts he took in caring for you after your entanglement. It was the push and pull you had been battling all week, and your eyes flitted to the door. Going up to his room wasn’t something you had entertained, knowing better than to try and call Alastor’s bluff, but the desire to speak with him now was a temptation you worried you’d lose the battle against. 

Knock.

The single, hollow sound echoing off the door sent a jolt through your body, sitting up from your relaxed position on the small sofa near the fireplace. It was Friday, wasn’t it? Meaning everyone had left the hotel already except for you and…

There’s no way.

Your pulse spiked. 

Maybe you just imagined it. Or the hotel was settling. Things like that could still happen to buildings in the afterlife, right? Ghosts and hauntings and creaks and groans seemed fairly on-brand for Hell. Alastor’s shadow — that you had found yourself missing as well — was proof of that all on its own. 

It was that final thought that brought you to the door, hand hovering over the knob as your breath thinned; perspiration beading your skin like morning dew. Tormented by the prospect that opening it would either reveal him or nothing at all.

Unsure of which you were hoping for as you let your forehead fall forward, a huff of air passing your lips. Eyes closed as you relaxed into the cool lacquer of the wooden door, reaching out. Alastor felt especially close now. Typical that he would show up now that you were not only beginning to feel better, but also reaching the end of your rope in your banishment from him. If you weren’t too busy fighting the whiplash of frustration and want coursing through you, you would have laughed. 

Even reconciliation had to be on his schedule…

If he was actually on the other side of the door wanting to make up, of course. This could all be your imagination, which would be particularly cruel on your mind’s part considering how just moments ago you were feeling so desperate to see him, if only just to talk. You sighed, condensation from your warm breath pilling under your mouth hovering near the door.

Was he really there?

Your hand gripped the handle in response, heart heavy and loud in your chest as you turned it and pulled. There was only one way to know for sure.

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Alastor took you in as you opened the door. An apprehensive expression on your face, but with an underlying relief. Though he didn’t need eyesight for the confirmation. Your heartbeat and scent told him all he needed to know with an honesty that betrayed you for his benefit. It was rather unfair, wasn’t it?

The life coming back to your eyes did not go unnoticed, either.

He felt what was left of his vitriol drain out of him, and in a rare moment of self-deprecation he found himself hoping his unpolished state would put you at ease. Despite the lingering tension that was still eating away at him, he truly did wish to avoid an argument. Shouting matches were simply… nasty. In a way he did not much, if at all, enjoy. 

Conversation is called an art for a reason.

A true favorite of his and it was much more his speed. With such an adaptable form you could be fencing one minute and duetting the next. Unless, of course, the conversation was bad, which was a fate worse than death. But that hadn’t been a problem with you, for the most part. He’d like that to be the case now as he prepared to linger for as long as it took to reach some kind of resolution. 

Things couldn’t stay the way they were. He knew you’d both return to yourselves eventually, but you had gotten a head start on him. Leaving him to grasp at what was on the other side of this only in regard to himself. If ever he needed you, you’d be just a summoning away. Tied to him always by your contract. Something that typically provided a sense of security to the point of aloofness. But the uncertainty of how you would approach your days independent of him in the aftermath made him falter. Made evident by the color that had returned to your face, that spark of ferocity in your eyes. 

Deep down he understood that you would carry on. 

Tied to him, yes, but not entangled. There was an unpleasant tightness in his chest at the thought, his jaw flexing with irritation. He wasn’t through exploring this, relishing the fire he felt in his blood at seeing you again up close, lungs taking in your scent to feed the flame. Your racing heart a sonnet so sweet in a way that only he could truly appreciate. Feeding a part of him that either had not existed or had been lying dormant which, now awakened, was eager for more and he found himself wondering when it ever would be satiated.

More of your voice ringing in his ears, whether it was coated in insolence or lust… or laughter. More of your scent in his lungs, oxygenating his blood with the bliss of childhood summers. More of your taste on his tongue. Blood, sweat, tears. He’d take it all, or whichever morsels you were still willing to give him. Even if all that left him with was cordiality, it would be far better than letting you slip through his fingers. How wasted you would be on some tramp off the street. Not even taking into account that the average soul couldn’t appreciate your scent, attributes like responsibility and integrity weren’t typically admired here in the pit.

Who else could see you the way he did? 

Past the pout of your lips to the lethal fangs hiding behind them; that sleeping anger you managed to keep at bay but weren’t afraid to use if necessary. Would you ever reveal that ferocity and glowing eyes to someone else in the ways he had witnessed them — induced by tapping into some of your baser instincts? It made stomach twist just to think it. 

Alastor’s imagination began to run away from him then. Flashes of you making some other sinner’s bed, fetching their coffee, and picking up clothes. Drawing a bath, hanging their coat, laughing at their jokes. That now-dear sulk of yours aimed at the faceless menace when one of those jokes went too far. Phantom hands stripping you of clothes, cupping your face, roaming your body… holding your chin. And though his urges were few and far between, worse still was the thought of you crying out a stranger’s name like a reverent prayer, writhing underneath them as you fell apart.

Foul.

Bile scorched his throat as he fought to maintain his composure in your doorway. The filthy handprints he had just pictured all over you gone in the blink of an eye as his own hand twitched behind his back, eager to hold you once more and feel the heat of your skin soak into his palm. Easy as it would be to reach out and satisfy the urge he refrained from doing so, smothering his desire in his fist. Now wasn’t the right time to succumb to impulse. 

As much as Alastor wanted to pull you into his embrace he knew there was still a hatchet to bury. You had touched quite the nerve that morning, after all, and his actions had been less than genteel as a result. As justified as he had felt at the time, it settled in now as something he was less than proud of. Warranted… What a fool he was to think so. Though misguided, all you had done was try to make sense of things. You would be well within your rights to sever any further personal ties with him, and he swallowed against the anxious lump in his throat.

He had spent so much time wallowing in liquor, wasted countless hours justifying his anger toward you to ease his own unrest. Even if you had picked the fight… hadn’t he brought you right to the edge of it with his antics over the past weeks? In truth, hadn’t making you lose your composure been his goal from the start? He had certainly got what he wanted, just not in a way that was originally intended; culminating in a misunderstanding that threatened to keep parts of yourself locked away from him for, quite possibly, eternity.

Desiring someone’s comfort the way he did yours was something he never expected to have to face, let alone something he ever feared to lose. Alastor wondered for the first time how things between you would be had you met sooner. Granted, you had only been in Hell for two-or-so months, but he was a different man now than he was even then. The Alastor of two months ago still had his microphone, for starters. His sword and shield. Now nothing but another one of his corpses left to decay in the bayou.

That man hadn’t had his confidence shaken, his power drained. Alastor had felt so invigorated when he retreated to the radio tower to mend himself after battling Adam, but the healing process hadn’t been simple. Seeing as the weapon that caused the wound was made of angelic steel, Alastor expected it would take more time than usual, but he had underestimated the reality of it. So many arduous, slow hours had passed as he used all his strength just to make minute progress in closing the gash. It took a week to finally get it to seal, the scar barely formed by the time he encountered you at Rosie’s. 

Simply put, you had weathered emotional storms that he typically had much better control of. There was a sourness in his soul that had been poisoning him from the very beginning of your relationship, which you took — more often than not — in stride. As much as he felt there was no one who fully appreciated you, Alastor believed it to be a two way street. Whether there was anyone else who could take your place — paramour, caretaker, or otherwise — was inconsequential. He simply wasn’t interested in the prospect. Hadn’t he gotten along just fine in his relative solitude before you fell to suffer your infernal fate? 

It wouldn’t be the same.

It already wasn’t, in fact, which is why his feet had brought him here when his stubbornness wouldn’t. Opening the door to him was only the first step. You could still slam it in his face, effectively shutting him out; leaving him standing alone in the hall as the Overlord who owned your soul and nothing more.

He found it to be a dreadful prospect.

“May I come in?”

Even he could hear the exhaustion in his voice, making the question heavy in air as he watched you contemplate. Nervous fingers tapping the doorframe to the same beat as his heart before you stepped off to the side to make way for him. Alastor managed to fight the instinctual twitch at the corners of his mouth. Now wasn’t the time for smiling, despite the wave of relief he felt at your accepting of his request to enter.

As long as it takes…

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You watched as Alastor practically collapsed on your sofa, massaging his temples with a single hand as he leaned back to cross his legs. Still doing his best to maintain decorum despite how worn out he was. Discontent, you shifted on your feet, not wanting to give into the pity you felt towards him too easily. 

As much as you tried to remember your anger, there was no denying the relief you felt at being near him again. Hearing his voice. And knowing he could pick up on it only made it worse. Would it ever be anything but an uphill battle for you when it came to him? Your eyes couldn’t help but look just past him to where you had fallen to the floor, left to console yourself in your shame and grief. The memory didn’t fuel what was left of your animosity, but pricked at your sadness instead, making you feel the weight of the day.

I’m so sick of this…

Alastor’s gaze followed you as you moved to take your seat next to him, picking your book up off the cushion and placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. His eyes and hand lingered on the cover as you sat down.

“I just missed the first draft,” he said quietly, static replaced with the distant sound of remembrance. Eyes never leaving your copy of A Farewell to Arms as he continued with a small, humorless laugh. “I was eligible for the others but the only Divisions I could have been placed in were booked. Funny, isn’t it, a quota on the worthiness to die at war? But I suppose that’s a conversation for another time…”

The glimpse of his human life caught you off guard. Vulnerability wasn’t something you expected from him, especially not in the wake of your argument; the admission was given so casually you couldn’t help but soften just a bit, leaving you hungry for more of his secrets. 

He turned to you then, somehow looking even more tired than he had before. “We have our own battle to rectify, don’t we?”

You sighed and positioned your body to face him, bringing your legs up to sit criss-cross. This was shaping up to be a long night, so you decided you might as well get this out of the way. Even managing to get a piqued eyebrow out of him from the sober look that was no doubt on your face as you considered what you were about to say. 

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that I enjoyed our…,” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

Our what? 

Things had become so muddled you weren't quite sure what to call it. Sex, obviously, but… it had felt like more to you in the end. No matter how many times you reminded yourself that it wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a one night stand at best — and had spent the whole week drowning your sorrows trying not to think about the worst.

“I know you weren’t.” He said it in almost the same tone when you had admitted it in the first place, but his eyes were soft. “I enjoyed it myself, the second time. I thought that was obvious, but when you asked about the pheromones that morning… they had nothing to do with it. Not that evening. I… initiated that. Which is why I was so incensed by the implication that I was acting outside of myself.”

The confession sunk to the bottom of your stomach. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming and even keeled regarding it. And while you felt relief that the pheromones weren’t at play that evening — and that he had not only enjoyed, but desired it — you didn’t miss the implication of the words he kept to himself regarding how you ended up in this mess in the first place. The more you thought about it, the more you were beginning to understand why he felt the way he did. Was that why he had returned you to your room to wake up alone, because being in his bed was too much of a reminder? Had he really regretted it that much? 

Because you didn’t.

The truth was you had been more than willing to give yourself to him that afternoon. Yes, you knew something wasn’t quite right, but you didn’t know he was fighting against Valentino’s nasty little trick. You’d never know what would’ve happened if you had denied him instead, because that’s not what happened. Would he have gone into a rage? In the state he was in, that wasn’t an impossibility. In fact, that was what you had been expecting, wasn’t it? In a way you dodged a bullet — received his affections, however intense, instead of his violence. The bruised remnants of his mark on your shoulder were a dizzying mix of both. 

Though the ferocity you received the next morning… had it been lying in wait? Using the chain on you the way he did compounded by the words he spat at you was a tough memory to forget, to the point where you wondered if you ever could. He had only punished you that way one other time, but it had been nothing compared to this. Blood burned under your cheeks as you recalled how humiliated you felt. How different would things be right now if he had just let you stay?

“Look I…,” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, but resisted the urge to look away from him. “I really do understand why you’re unhappy with how things happened that afternoon but…”

Here goes nothing.

“It’s something I’ve been aware of in myself for a little while but… you don’t know how much it meant to me, being touched that way by you and how you let me touch you back it —” You wiped a tear you couldn’t stop from falling and cleared your throat, but the thick, choking feeling didn’t subside. The pinched look on Alastor’s face nearly sent you over the edge, but you couldn’t stop now that you’ve started. He needed to hear this as much as you needed to say it. “It made me really happy, if that’s even the right word for it.”

It wasn’t. But you didn’t know how else you could try to tell him how wanted and safe you felt underneath him. That no one had ever managed to turn your blood to kerosene; every bit of him the match, the bed behind you kindling. At this point it didn’t really matter that you hadn’t known him for very long. You cared about him, much more than you ever expected to, and you wanted to be near him in whatever capacity you could be. Whether that made you his errand girl or concubine, so long as you were spared from the more acidic side of his temper.

“And when I think about how much you regret it, it kills me, even though I know why you do. But… I don’t. You didn’t take advantage of me, if that’s something you’ve been worrying about. Honestly, now I can’t help but wonder if it’s the other way around…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed, lightly exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve only ever gone along with my impulses and games. My behavior in this has been… unbecoming. I fear my mother would be quite ashamed, and rightfully so, but you’ve come to know me at a low point.”

Everything about him felt wrung out and far off, from his posture to the defeat in his unfiltered voice. It had been absent from the moment he asked to come inside, but for some reason was only hitting you now. Though you couldn’t fight the ache in your heart from the poor state of him, there was still more you needed to know before you could let yourself give in. No matter what subconscious queues your body was undoubtedly feeding him in the meantime.

“You say unbecoming…,” you began tentatively, worried that what you were about to ask could possibly upset him again. “Is that because of how you punished me that morning, or the toying you’ve subjected me to?”

If you had to choose, you really hoped that he’d feel apologetic for the chain. While they could be annoying, his games and tricks were mostly harmless. You had admitted to yourself not too long ago that you were even beginning to miss them. That was not a feeling you extended to the invisible leash that bound you to him, not the way it had been used then, at least.

Alastor removed the hand from his nose to meet your eyes, the speed of his movement catching you off guard. For the first time all night his eyes were clear and earnest; that steadfast, hypnotizing red you had come to seek and cherish.

“Would you accept it if I said both? By pushing you I think I may have set us up for the argument. I won’t say that what you said that morning didn’t upset me, since it did, but… Perhaps if I had given you less reason to think I was playing at another game it would have never happened in the first place.” 

His voice was soft as he held his left hand out to you, a different charge in the air as your eyes broke contact to flicker down to his open palm.

The olive branch.

There was no doubt he could hear the way your heart had picked up, nearly choking you with its fervor as you swallowed against it… and gave him your hand. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“I was so humiliated that morning… I’ve been so mad at you.”

Alastor could hear the tears threatening to spill behind the statement, and he squeezed your hand before his thumb began to rub in soothing circles as you looked away from him for the first time that night. He took a quick moment to follow your line of sight and grimaced when he realized you were looking at the spot where he had treated you so harshly. There was nothing he could do to take back what he did. Regret was such an awful weight, reminding him of long nights trudging through the swamp to discard one of his victims. His mouth soured. It would seem he’d need to add your name to the list.

Things were never meant to end up this way. This… tangled.

He dared to lean forward, not that there was much distance to close on your quaint loveseat, and cupped your face with his other hand to draw your gaze back to his. The conflict in your eyes went right to his stomach with a kick — the chance that you would turn him away forever still there, but he was thankful you hadn’t rejected his touch. He really couldn’t have suffered through the empty ache in his hands for even another minute; the heat of your skin already refilling his cup.

And despite how much he wanted anything but, he knew he had to give you an out. It was only right.

“I was a brute… I can’t undo what’s been done but if you’d like me to leave you alone, I will. I’m not keen on releasing you from our contract, but I would let you leave this hotel if you wish.” The words scorched his tongue, but they were true. He would let you go if that’s what you really wanted. You deserved that chance. “It’s safer here, but I would know immediately if you faced any trouble. Well… any trouble you couldn’t handle yourself, that is. I know how capable you are.”

Alastor gave you a small smile, the first time his lips had curled up with any sincerity for days. It was the most generous offer he had ever given a soul under his heel, and your short, dry laugh in response was music to his ears. There was no bitterness in the sound, nor was there any coming from your scent, but that wasn’t an indication of what was going on in your mind. Something the Overlord needed to remind himself of more often. He took a moment to really breathe you in then, floral notes of almond warming him on the inside as your body warmed him from out. Would it be the last time he was ever surrounded by you like this? 

He didn’t know when his thumb began to absently stroke your cheek, but he loved the flush it brought to your face as you considered his words. A hint of iron gave the sweetness in the air just enough bite to make him swallow, his throat now parched and wanting. It took all he had not to close the remaining space between you, needing your answer before he would move an inch save the part of him caressing your face.

A jolt ran through him as your eyes locked onto his with a resolve that made his hair stand on edge, and he steeled himself as your lips parted to speak. Never could he have imagined that you would join the short list of people to hold his fate in their palm. And fewer still, one that he didn’t hold resentment toward having that power. There was security in your hold, not malice. Such a rare thing to stumble across even in life, let alone in this sulfurous chasm that had been home for the last near-century. As unworthy as he felt to receive it, the thought of losing it was even worse. He wasn’t in love… but it wasn’t impossible that he could be, with more time. 

If you would give it to him.

“I don’t want to leave the hotel,” you said quietly, and brought your free hand up to hold his chin in the same way he had held yours countless times. 

Alastor felt his ears lower despite how attuned they were to hear what you would say next, though the thumping in his chest didn’t help. To reach out and touch him of your own accord this way was bold, and he tried not to hone in on the bashfulness he felt burning his face. Why choose shame when he could have comfort? That was what he wanted, after all. A reprieve from The Radio Demon. There was nothing to be gained in postering, not with you. With you he could be… anything. And no matter your decision, he vowed to provide you with the same space. 

His schemes to mold you into something you weren’t fled him with every exhale of his lungs. It was a senseless desire… Remorseless murders were a dime a dozen here. Thrilling as it had been to see you decapitate that wretch with your teeth, the fact that you refused to do something akin to that again merely for the sake of it like so many others was refreshing. He could appreciate only killing with purpose. That had been his modus operandi in life, after all. Murder was a tool he now used to illicit fear and respect, though most souls here were free game to him even under his mortal code. You were not, and it had taken him much too long to acknowledge it.

“And I don’t want you to leave me alone… ever again, but…”

But…

The shakiness in your voice felt like the blade of a guillotine, hovering above his neck while he agonized over when you would let the rope loose and seal his fate.

“I don’t know if I could handle that again. The chain, your anger — ” A small sob escaped you then, tearing through him like a hurricane. 

Alastor didn’t even realize he was kissing your face until the salt of your tears registered on his tongue. Every little press of his lips an oath to never make you cry like this because of him ever again. And when your hands cupped his cheeks he only had a moment to relish in his relief, sighing against your skin before you captured his lips with yours. A familiar green glow enveloping you both as an unspoken agreement was made.

Peace.

What a magnanimous gift to receive. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Low voices pulled you out of sleep, making you aware of the cold that was beginning to sink into the front of your body. You had been so warm… so comfortable.

Safe.

More mumbling at your door as you groaned, the grievance in the sound not lost on you even in your groggy state. It wasn’t lost on Alastor either, saying something you couldn’t decipher beyond its tone of finality followed by the closing of the door.

“It’s still the middle of the night sweetheart, don’t stir.” 

You didn’t even have time to ask who was at the door before he ran a soothing hand through your hair, maneuvering himself back into place in your bed. Pressing the length of his body in close against yours as he nuzzled into your chest, humming as he found the pulse of your heart. The warm, claiming kiss he placed there sent a shiver through you, your shared embrace tightening in response. 

���What’s gotten into you? You promised you’d be good,” you mumbled, wriggling a little from the way his breath tickled your skin.

Even to yourself the warning was half-admonishing at best. But you were also just barely awake. Fingers betraying you as they lightly massaged his undercut, his contented sigh making you hide your face in his hair as if he could see the flush on your cheeks.

You’d be stronger in the morning.

Pet names and kisses like this weren’t something you were expecting to receive again so soon. It had been discussed, and you had both agreed to try and take things slow. A fresh start, of sorts. While you were used to him calling you dear, it was a term he used frequently toward other residents as well.

Sweetheart was… special.

Which he no doubt knew. Most likely saying it when he did so he could press up and relish your rapid heart like you were none the wiser.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, his words muffled by your skin. Inadvertently kissing you more due to the sheer proximity of his lips to your chest. Feeling closer to you now than he had during intimacy.

And, admittedly, cuddling in bed wasn’t exactly what you’d call taking it slow. But by the time you had finished talking — and making out on the loveseat — the two of you were so exhausted that letting him spend the night had seemed innocent enough. Like platonically sharing a bed with a friend. Though that’s not a word you would use to describe what Alastor was to you.

More than friends, not quite lovers. Beholden to each other all the same. 

“Which is why I’ll only do this… for now.”

Alastor’s words and the warning, low tone of his voice hardly registered before you felt his tongue lap at the valley between your breasts, leaving a scorching trail in its wake that made your breath hitch. The soft groan from his open mouth right over your heart only making it beat harder, pleading for more of him. His large palm splayed against your back as he pressed you against his lips to nestle and kiss and suck, as if trying to pull the frantic organ through your skin through desire alone. You gasped as the light prick of his nails between your shoulders sent a fresh shiver down your spine, ending in a warm bloom between your hips as you curled into his touch. His responding needy hum as he grazed you with his teeth making you whimper.

Stronger in the morning…

“You’re not playing fair,” you complained, but it was a pathetic attempt at a scolding. You didn’t really want him to stop. Alastor’s responding chuckle told you that he knew it, too. The sound of it making your heart ache, and you were unable to suppress the small whine from behind your closed lips as he nipped and licked at your collarbone. “I missed you so much.”

You barely managed to finish speaking when he moved up to kiss you properly, slow and sweet, hand leaving your back to cradle the crown of your head. Melting into his touch, you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth; gentle and hot, coaxing whimpers and gasps from both of you as you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him close. 

“I missed you, too,” he said quietly, nudging your nose with his. 

Tears fell unbidden as Alastor caressed and kissed the lingering bruises from his bite, seemingly determined to make them disappear through sheer willpower. Every little touch — administered or received — was comforting in a way that you feared would leave you insatiable, but the thought that formed in your mind through the haze of affection was a reassuring one.

This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Fess up, toots.” Angel plopped down on a chair across from you, gleaming as he rested his head in his hands and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re havin’ all kinds of sleepovers now, huh?”

You nearly dropped the mug in your hands from the sudden question, and quickly looked around to see if anyone else had overheard. Not that the reconciliation was going to be secret — which would have been impossible to pull off anyway, considering how much the two of you had been moping around the hotel — but you had hoped to at least make it through the morning with the knowledge kept to yourselves. 

“That was you at the door last night, I’m assuming?” The nonchalance you were aiming for just enough to get a laugh from him. “What did you say to him anyway?”

“Just that I was checkin’ up on my girl — which he did not appreciate me callin’ ya, by the way — after missin’ the big night out. I hope I didn’t send him to bed too mad.” Judging by the smug look on Angel’s face, he knew that Alastor definitely had returned to bed at least a little ruffled. “Buuut after I heard ya wakin’ up I figured I’d save the teasin’ for another day.”

“And you started bright and early,” you quipped, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips as you went back to preparing the breakfast tray. 

“Well ya ain’t exactly bein’ subtle, what with the two mugs and all,” Angel taunted, jerking his head in the tray’s direction, “but jokes aside… I’m glad you were able to patch things up with Smiles. Who woulda thought all it’d take was an empty hotel, huh?” He gave you a wink and you narrowed your eyes at the suggestion, but he cut you off before you could even begin to ask the question forming in your mind. “Look, I gotta run, but I’m expectin’ a full report when I get back from work, capisce? Oh! Speakin’a which — guess who’s supposed to be on set tomorrow?”

It was your turn to laugh. “It’s about time that lazy bitch went back to work. Making the rest of you pick up the slack is just rude.”

You both snickered as you added the finishing touches on the tray, rounding out the coffee with some croissants and fruit. It definitely paid to be in the Princess’ circle; grapes in particular were very hard to come by. There wasn’t much time to relish in your mirth with Angel before you felt a cool, slinking tendril climb up your leg. Alastor’s shadow soon emerging over your shoulder to glare at your friend and whine in your ear.

Angel put all four of his hands up in mock defeat and pushed away from the table. “Duty calls, I get it,” he chuckled and gave you a knowing look, popping a grape from the tray into his mouth before making his way out of the kitchen. “Make sure the boss man knows ya got plans for tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you called after him, glancing behind you as the shadow growled at the spot where Angel Dust had been. Its face reverted back to sullenness when you pursed your lips, admonishing him with only a look. Any lingering irritation dissolved as it tugged at your sleeve, urging you back upstairs, and you conceded with a sigh. “You wouldn’t even be here to come get me if it wasn’t for Angel, you know. I expect you to be nicer next time.”

The shadow nodded its head and pulled on you again, its phantom grin quickly returning when you picked up the tray and began to walk back to the elevators. Baseless hostility toward Angel aside, it was hard not to smile as you watched it flitter across the floor; pausing every few feet to materialize and look back, ensuring you were right behind it. If your theories about this creature were right, it was merely acting as an extension of the demon you were making your way back to, and he was apparently quite eager for your return. A warm rush of pride left your body tingling at the thought.

Then again… it wouldn’t do well for the two of you to be late to your sudden appointment with Rosie. Who, according to Alastor, was very anxious to see you both and had something special planned that he had nothing to do with.

Yeah, right… 

When you entered your room, you found Alastor at the loveseat still lounging in his pajamas and you scoffed, “That was a lot of urgency from someone who hasn’t gotten dressed yet.”

“Well, I had to do something. Our mutual friend was getting you off-track. I thought we took the same pleasure in this morning routine of ours, but perhaps I’m mistaken?” Alastor’s tone was light, his smile teasing as he watched the blush burn your face.

You cleared your throat as you took a seat next to him after setting down the tray and decided to change the subject. What point was there in admitting what he already knew?

“Rumor has it that Donny’s finally scheduled back to work tomorrow,” you said conversationally, helping yourself to some of the fruit.

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before his face lit up in a hearty laugh; the ebullient sound of it making the mark he had left over your heart radiate with fondness. His face sharpened with that menacing, debonair grin as he looked down at you while you poured his coffee.

“Took him long enough to pull himself together, didn’t it? You did do quite a number on him, darling.”

You hummed, pleased with the proud look he gave you, and passed him the mug; a shock running through you as your fingers touched. Silly, considering how you had been pressed together all evening… not to mention all the other marks he left that matched the one currently throbbing between your breasts. 

Even in life, you never could have imagined something like this. Sitting in the parlor with a suitor, giggling over coffee and breakfast after an evening of whispering sweet nothings between kisses. It would be foolish to think a peace like this could last forever, but this was the afterlife. Wasn’t peace the absolution from mortality and its fickleness? As you watched Alastor sip his coffee, his free hand absently massaging the back of your neck as he hummed along to the radio, you couldn’t help but think so. 

Peace, friendship, sanctuary, love, and power.

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was home.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: a special shoutout to my darlings @hazelfoureyes and @sugoi-writes for giving me their shoulders to lean on while i worked on this final chapter. you both have listened to me ramble off ideas and scenarios and have supported me with such patience and grace… i don’t know how i’ll ever repay you but i will never stop trying!

pps: i do have plans for an epilogue, but don’t have a timeline on it just yet… stay tuned 😌💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts , @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @alastorthirsty, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @fraugwinska, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[fandomlurker333]

A lot of people are screaming throuple and just writing the porn (which I get! It’s fun!). But reading them come is not enough for me. lol Toxicity is hot until it’s just damaging and sad for everyone. I want real happiness for these three weirdos.

The end of the film was meant to be the very beginning of something. Just the spark of an idea of them coming back to one another. But the real work starts after. 

And I think it would probably be a step-by-step thing. 

I can see Patrick and Art working to draw closer, with that strong foundation of their childhoods to build off of. Obviously having to resolve the hurt that so much time and distance caused them, and both being willing to forgive. But it’s clear at the end of the film that the door is open for that. They grew up together. There’s a real root of knowing that I think could carry them through the toughest parts early on. Their relationship evolving feels possible.

And Tashi and Art’s marriage would find some breathing room and maybe even some renewed delight for having Patrick present and loving on them both. Kinda seeing each other again through his eyes type thing. Remembering they’re more than who they have been to each other for over a decade (both operating in one mode to survive, never quite enough for each other -- not totally fulfilled and not appreciated in their fullness).

I don’t think Patrick and Tashi would be having sex at this point, but I can see like….tennis dates where they bicker. Just them all learning how to be in each other’s space for extended periods of time and enjoy it.

And maybe Art wouldn’t resent Tashi so much for not being able to give him everything (so much has been taken from her — she just doesn’t have all that much left. She’s been doing her best.) and maybe Tashi would feel more at peace seeing them play each other and knowing Art is really loving tennis, not just playing for her. Connecting with them both in that space and finding joy in tennis again, so it’s not just routine and pain and loss for her.

With that healing happening concurrently (with therapists as support, of course), I think they’d get far. And then once those relationships are more secure, once Art and Tashi learn how they relate to each other when he isn’t winning for her (which would be something new. They don’t know what that looks like yet!) then Patrick and Tashi, having learned way more about themselves in relationship and how to communicate, might start working on their side of the triangle lol. 

I could see them all exploring and working out the intimacy over time — not just sex, but intimacy -- what do they each need and how do they need it? And kink too, the various ways they each want/need to give or receive so they all feel truly satisfied.

And of course they’ll be partners co-parenting. All of them.

I can see Tashi finally grieving her injury, the life she lost, and rediscovering her love of tennis, not to win, but for the joy of being on the court. Her sobs the first time she plays again and it’s not competitively, just a little volley, but it’s like she’s finally alive again. Reminding herself she’s a leader in tennis the space still, that she can build success in that world even without Art’s career, but maybe it looks different. I see a healed Tashi learning to enjoy teaching kids. Taking on more protege. And letting Art and Patrick come help at her tennis camps. 

Art retiring like he said he wanted, running the foundation as Tashi steps back. Realizing that he’s actually pretty good at this business thing and going back to school for a Master’s in nonprofit leadership. Meeting new people. Making friends (that aren’t Patrick). Getting invited to a pottery class and seeing he loves to work with his hands. Playing tennis with Patrick on the weekends.

And my heart for stay-at-home dad Patrick. Who always forgets to change over the laundry and leaves his keys everywhere and puts the babies' shoes on the wrong feet. But my god he loves those kids so goddamn much. Patrick learning to cook for the family and getting really good at it like he does anything he hyper-focuses on. Patrick finally having a home with the two people he loves most and figuring out how to create some routine and stability for himself within that container.

The love in that home. Ugh. I think it’s possible! I think they can do it! It just takes work. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Disney Villains x Clueless!Reader || Excerpts

Plot: You had absolutely no idea about their villainous deeds… until you walked in. Part 1??

Characters Included: Cruella De Vil, Hades, Jafar, Lots-O’-Huggin Bear

Warnings: Angst. Also kidnapping, hypnosis, and attempted gas lighting/manipulation.

Tagging: @asperol-with-izzy , @disney-android-foundation , @lady-love88 , @marinerainbow , @miss_understood , @moxiiscool , @ryantryan6969 , and @yesthetrashbin . Hey y'all! Have some drama with your August. xo

Cruella De Vil:

When you walked into Cruella’s house, using your own key (You were meant to surprise her. It was supposed to be nice!), and heard her talking to Le Pelt on the phone in her office, you were so shocked. And so was she, when she left her office and saw you there in the hallway with a horrified look on your face.

Cruella is non-too-happy about your surprise, that is for sure. As soon as she lays eyes on you and realises what you just heard, she is so frustrated. Now you’re going to make this a thing, damnit. You’re probably going to try to leave her- all because you acted stupid and tried to surprise her. Ugh! … now darling, don’t lose your little head over this, they’re just some puppies, after all- When you immediately turn and storm back towards the front door again, chucking your key at a hallway table, Cruella wouldn’t move. She wouldn’t run after you; She’s not the type. But the frustration in her voice would build and she’d give up trying to be calm and careful with you, yelling after your retreating form. Wait right there! Y/N! Turn around. You walk out that door and you’ll never work in this- or any industry, ever again! I promise you that!-

When you slam the door behind you, she will not follow you.

… But never fret, she does care… and she’ll have her admirers Le Pelt and Alonzo abduct you in the middle of the night.

Good, put the nitwit in the truck, now. Gently, you fools. Y/N- you didnt think it would be that easy, did you?? Ha! We're taking the train to Paris, soon. You've always wanted to go- so keep quiet and enjoy the ride...

Hades:

When you walked into the throne room and saw Hades holding Meg up off the ground precariously by her throat, and you heard him say something about taking over Olympus and Hercules- and Hades noticed you standing there horrified and disgusted- everything stopped.

Hades would know immediately that he fucked up. That you would have a hard time forgiving him- if you ever did at all. He would know.

Hades would be desperate. He’d be pathetic, true slimy used-cars-salesman style; Following you as you storm out of the room and down the hall to your room and begging you all the way. Offering you things which fast develop from foot rubs and chocolate coated strawberries to being Master of the Gods- Master of the World- Master of whatever you want! He tries to convince you that this is a good thing, that he’s doing it for you, so you two can be happy together.

This is all while you’re grabbing your most important things and throwing them into a sack, throwing him poisonous glares because how dare he even look at you right now that make him flinch and be quiet. If only for a second. Overall, the man cannot stop talking.

I love you, babe, you can’t- No, no, you’re not leaving. I’m not gonna just allow-

Okay okay okay, I get it! I get it, I shouldn’t threaten you right now, I get it. I’m sorry. You- you probably need some time to cool off, yeah?? Hey, that makes sense!! I would be the same, yeah?? You know what? Take a week- two! Take two weeks… take all the time y’like. And then when you’re ready, you’ll call me, and we’ll talk! I’ll set out a nice cheese platter, some wine,.. we’ll make it a picnic! It’ll be great! Ba- Babe, you’ll understand, you’ll agree, I promise! This is- this is the best thing for the both of us! I promise! I- I’m only thinking of you, sweetheart, of us. I promise! Baby- after I do this, we’ll have everything! I swear! Everything we ever wanted; You can get that house on the mountainside you had your eye on, doesn’t that sound fabulous??

And Zeus?!

 Zeus?! Zeus, is a needle brained moron who doesn’t deserve- Okay okay! I’m sorry! You’re right, you’re absolutely right, baby how are you always so right about everything?? We'll set him up with a nice cottage on the coast. What??? That’s a good deal! Coconuts, babes in bikinis, the sky- he'll love it! Come on-

The man would end up on his knees, reaching for you, but you just slip out of his way, flashing another terrible glare. He has talked a lot while you packed but you've said barely two words. And its terrifying to him.

Baby… sweetheart, where’re you gonna be? You- you’re comin back, right?

… Just tell me if you’re coming back, please. Gimmie something-

No.

Jafar:

When you walked in and heard Jafar and Iago cackling about marrying the princess and hurting the poor Sultan, and they saw you standing there, Iago immediately flew off leaving more matted feathers on Jafar’s shoulder than usual from the force he used to get away so fast.

Jafar groans, brushing the feathers off him and muttering. Meanwhile you’re horrified, disgusted, creeped out- and about a million other awful emotions all at once, but you stand your ground. You lift your chin and you focus on him. You ask, really? Is that true?? Are you- Are you going to do that??? Is that the plan!?

… an eye roll, is the response you get and that make you feel even sicker. How could you??? As Jafar starts to cross the throne room, at his leisure, towards you- you start to completely lose your composure; Panic building. The- The sultan is a good man! He’s been kind. He’s your friend! I- I- I don’t understand! Jafar, I- Please, explain!

He sighs at that idea and rolls his eyes deeply, getting closer, leading with his snake staff as he always does. I already tried that.

Wh- What?

You heard me, Y/N. Now stay still.

You don’t know what he means by that, but you don’t like it, it- he, scares you. So quickly you try to turn and leave the room, leave him, but he’s too close now and his fingers are surprisingly strong; Holding you forcefully right where you are. That staff’s pushed right in front of your face, the snake’s eyes beginning to glow and burn into yours. This won’t hurt at all, my dear…

… This isn’t the first time you’ve walked in, before.

Lotso:

When you walked into the library, seeing one of the new toys tied to the ‘time out’ chair that Lotso told you (No, no. Swore to you) was a joke, you were shocked. And it was dark, so Lotso didn’t see you at first.

Twitch did. But by that point you’d heard too much, eyes wide and furious. Uh… boss?

Uhuh what Twitch? I’m kinda in the middle of something here-

Your uh… your Keeper’s, here.          

Wha- my- Oh, honey! At first, Lotso tries to act like you don’t even see what’s right in front of you. Like you’re blind. Like you’re stupid. Like he can wash it all away with some papa bear charm and a kind smile- but there is something darker behind it that you see, now. What are you doin’ outta bed, sweetheart?? Its so late! You’ve had a long day. I’ll be with you in just a second, I just… When he realises that your canyon-deep glare isn’t getting any lighter, he lets it go. He lets it all go; All the sweetness and the charm that you knew him for and all that is left is… something cruel. He looks at you in a full deadpan, a cruel and disappointed deadpan that makes you actually feel cold. Physically. Alright, honey, what’d you see?

Everything!

And what do you plan t’do about it, huh?

I, I…

Hmmm?

…

That’s right sweetpea, there aint nothin’ you can do! This is my shop, now. C’mon, come with me, I’ll explain it all to ya, and you’ll see that this is the best thing for everybo-

I’ll leave.

When you say that, all the warmth in the room is sucked out- some of the other toys like Twitch and Ken look to eachother slightly wide eyed behind Lotso’s back. The look on his face turns from patronising to hard, mean, mad.

He can’t accept that. … Grab ‘em, boys.

[findyourlovely]

Lots of speculation on when these two fell in love in the original timeline— here’s my personal head canon:

Michonne falls for Rick when he kills the claimers. I always felt like this was true and when Danai confirmed it I just knew I could trust their vision with the new spinoff. I started shipping Richonne together in the “must’ve been something else” era but I wasn’t actually expecting AMC to have the balls to follow through. but Michonne’s “you’re okay because I’m okay” moment sparked the hope that this relationship was really happening, just off the symbolism of what this moment meant for her.

She’s never felt like she had someone who could step up to protect her but Rick fully proves himself in that episode. That is a man who would do anythinggggg to protect his family. She doesn’t judge him, she understands he did what was necessary. And after the way she lost Andre, she could never trust her heart to a man unless he had that level of grit to protect his own.

I think she’s consciously aware of her love for him as they entered those gates at Alexandria. She doesn’t tend to initiate physical contact with Rick, but this moment with him and the kids in the car is an exception. This is her recognizing exactly how hard this journey has been for Rick and she knows that he did it anyway. For her. He lets her lead him into the future and she’s starting to wonder if it could be one where maybe they build something together for real(it’s already real she’s literally a mother to his kids and his closest confidant and he stares at her ass at every opportunity).

Ricks shenanigans with Jessie set things back but I still think she already knew her own feelings. It’s just not something she would let herself really think about until they’re in a stable place.

I think for Rick, he starts to fall in love with her after she tracks them back in S4. I don’t think he knows it yet but the way he slid down that door in happiness cannot ever be anything but loverboy behavior. This man is elated to see her and 100% would have been okay just staying holed up in that house indefinitely. She makes Carl laugh. And the next day he straight up asks her to commit to coparenting with him, so clearly Rick isn’t trying to risk a separation ever again. Michonne’s presence restores his hope. And he loves watching her sweet relationship with Carl.

Rick consciously understands the depth of his feelings for her outside those gates of Alexandria(or in the moments leading up to it). Because that man would have never walked into that community if not for Michonne’s sake(not even mentioning the 100 mile march to get there). He knows that well enough to tell her so! And now he tells her he’s struggling with how “the rules keep changing” in part because he knows she’s the one he wants to let in, and the implications of pursuing that are monumental for him and his kids. Who else matters enough for this much self reflection?

Ofc we have to wait for Rick to deal with his PTSD rebound first, but the foundation is right here. These two were already it for each other, they just needed to feel safe enough to lean into it.

Y’all let me know if your timeline is any different.

[canonizzyhours]

What nobody wants to admit is there’s a reason OFMD fandom has a big divide over how to interpret Izzy and it’s simply that Con is playing against the scripts.

Con DOES play Izzy like he and Ed have a profound warrior’s bond and their relationship was actually a positive thing up until Stede appeared and Izzy’s jealousy made him briefly go a little bit insane, but once he recognized that Ed truly needed to be with Stede to be happy Izzy was able to let go because his love for Ed is genuinely selfless. People who see that in Con’s performance aren’t wrong.

However this makes no sense as an interpretation of the actual STORY. The scripts write Izzy as someone whose “love” for Ed has been selfish and controlling and abusive (in ways that, yes, echo Ed’s relationship with his father) since long before Stede was in the picture, and is mostly based in the fact that he craves power and manipulating Ed is how he achieves and maintains a position of power – plus the whole deal has this creepy undercurrent of psychosexual obsession. This was obvious back in season one but there’s zero remaining ambiguity about it at this point now that the show literally had Izzy tell Ed “I’ve been terrible to you for years” and “it was me who needed Blackbeard.” 

The way he’s written, Izzy has to let go of both his ambition for power AND his fucked up crush entirely before he can stop obsessively trying to control Ed’s life and be normal enough about him to start building an even remotely healthy relationship, which the two of them never had before. Both djenks and other writers have said this in interviews - what Izzy needed was not to realize Stede was good for Ed, it was to let go of his obsession with controlling his boss’ love life entirely before he even COULD realize that.

This contradiction isn’t Con’s fault, or really anyone’s. If you’re an actor it’s your job to come up with headcanons that make sense of your character’s motivations even if they’re not super clear in the scripts, and the scripts do not focus all that much on Izzy’s internal motivations. (It’s clear from his interviews that he got only vague high-level overviews from the writing team about their intentions for Izzy’s overall arc too, which is normal for a supporting character - not only has he mentioned scenes where he struggled to figure out the motivation on his own, he didn’t even know the show was gay for four episodes, meaning the writers and directors didn’t tell him about Izzy’s gay crush on Ed, the thing he plays as Izzy’s core motivation!) And it’s usually a good idea as an actor to come up with an interpretation that lets you sympathize with your character. So Con went with the most sympathetic read of Izzy he could come up with. It doesn’t make sense of the overall narrative arc of the show, but that’s not his job, his job is figuring out a motivation that gives him a foundation for feeling like he understands Izzy’s perspective in the scenes he’s playing.

So if you pay the most attention to Con’s performances and ignore the narrative framing of the scripts, you end up with basically the canyon read on Izzy’s character. If you pay the most attention to the story the scripts suggest and mostly ignore the performance, you end up with the non-canyon one where Izzy’s a really really bad guy up till s2e5 and he’s manipulative and emotionally abusive toward Ed. Neither one of those is really “canon Izzy.” They’re both present in canon and they directly contradict each other.

This is what led to the fandom getting incredibly weird. Because people most interested in Con’s performance take it as the primary lens through which they interpret the whole show - but it’s an interpretation that fundamentally cannot make sense of the story as a cohesive whole, so they keep running into cognitive dissonance, and they try to resolve it by coming up with increasingly contorted interpretations of the entire narrative arc of the show (including parts that aren’t even directly about Izzy) and getting angry when other people bring back the cognitive dissonance by pointing out how nonsensical those interpretations are. 

People who prioritize the scripts as their main interpretive lens don’t have quite the same problem, because if they notice what’s going on in Con’s performance there’s an easy way to integrate it: assume that the way Con acts is expressing Izzy’s own point of view, BUT IZZY IS WRONG ABOUT ALL THAT. Izzy THINKS he really understands Ed but he doesn’t. Izzy THINKS his feelings for Ed are selfless love but a lot of abusers think that, it’s him lying to himself about his motives being benevolent. And the thing is, this angle makes Izzy look REALLY FASCINATING but also WAY WORSE than the basic read where he’s just being selfish, it turns him from an ambitious manipulative schemer with a weird little crush into a horrific obsessed stalker with a creepy daddy-knows-what’s-best-for-you complex about Ed, a grown-ass indigenous man who never asked his white employee to control his life “for his own good.”

It’s no wonder everyone’s fighting all the time.

#88.

[moondal514]

this is from my main but damn your orv rec from windsoftime floored me and then rewrote me. what. ive returned like the goblin i am and am thirsting for more. any more reccs please 🤲🧍🏻‍♀️

- squid-n-sunfish-express

haha I’m happy you enjoyed my rec! WindsOfTime is a great writer huh

Here are a few more orv fic recs:

by grand invention by seclusion

“Don’t go,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, then mentally kicks himself. And then wonders why he kicked himself. He wants him now, has wanted him since he drifted through the endless sprawl of black space with only the story of his sole reader to sustain him, has wanted him across countless screaming battlefields, has wanted him since he dangled him off a bridge, the glint of knowing hard against his temple. All in different ways. The latest: in his entirety, with the intention to never let go. If this is his end goal, he need not hide anything.

Legit prob one of the most beautifully written orv fics I’ve ever read

(re)- read, write by aozu/ @aozu

Post-epilogue.

Kim Dokja buys a big house and they all live in it. Including Yoo Joonghyuk.

-

“Oppa,” Yoo Mia rasps on the door before hefting one of the boxes into her arms.

Almost immediately, the door opens to reveal Yoo Joonghyuk, whose gaze flicks to meet his. Yoo Mia enters, ignoring the frizzled tension where Kim Dokja stares with his mouth slightly open at the scene.

“…You bastard,” he says, and Yoo Joonghyuk closes the door in his face.

I haven’t read the main side story yet so as far as I’m concerned this fic is canon cuz this was exactly what I needed to read to soothe myself after reading the epilogues

Seal Of My Devotion by orphiclovers/ @orphiclovers

Kim Dokja could not stop obsessing over Yoo Joonghyuk's clothes. It was becoming a problem.

Wherein Kim Dokja wants to make sure 0th turn Yoo Joonghyuk is in the right cosplay

behind the black dial by HeavenlyDusk/ @inkstaindusk

The eldest of three children, Kim Dokja didn't wish for more than to help his mother run her hat shop. That plan is derailed when the rumored Witch of the Waste sets a curse on him, and in his fear, he runs away--right into the moving castle of the Wizard Yoo Joonghyuk, his two apprentices, and his demon. It's more than he could have ever thought he would have, but underneath his exciting new life is a secret no one wants him to know.

Super fun Howl’s Moving Castle au

foundations for cathedrals by featherx/ @featherxs

Before the scenarios, Yoo Joonghyuk had lived in a two-bedroom apartment. It had been neither spacious nor comfortable, furnished only with the bare necessities.

Suffice to say, that two-bedroom apartment had not prepared him for the experience of living in a two-storey building in the Industrial Complex.

An exceedingly domestic KimCom fic that makes me so happy

at the end of all things (you'll find me) by aryelee/ @luxaofhesperides

At the end of everything, in that space between death and regression, Na Bori and Lee Jihye meet again and again and again.

Or: what is a haunting if not a love that lingers?

I hope you don’t mind me throwing in a BoriJihye fic rec here cuz they’re actually my favorite orv ship and this is my favorite fic I’ve read for them so far

Enjoy!

[starsreminisce]

I’m honestly afraid of sjm. Like i could imagine that she would introduce gwyn just to build another obstacle for elriel. And if she does that i will never forgive her for it. I will never pick up another book of her. Like no girl you already had lucien/az/elain there is no need for another person. And for that person to have such a horrible past where az is also a part of. So i just really hope it will be gwynriel

I can imagine the fear, as SJM does like to bait and switch her endgames. I know a lot of people were banking on Hunt not being Bryce's endgame because of her penchant for first loves not being forever loves.

But you're right, it doesn’t make sense for Gwyn to be an obstacle for E/riel when Azriel is already an obstacle for Elucien. The grave Azriel dug by calling her a mistake, leaving without apologizing, and giving her present to another girl who made him feel more settled to the point of contentment than Elain ever did is practically a tunnel to Tibet.

Nesryn wasn't even an obstacle for Chaolrene.

It's evident because there were no moments between Elain and Azriel after the Solstice.

E/riel has more stacked against them: the tropes SJM likes, the tropes she doesn’t, how she feels about forbidden romances, the way she believes a male ought to act towards the female, fourth wall hints through interviews, and pins on Pinterest. Shit, even her Pisces Venus gives us more ideas of what she values.

Of course, this is her world, her characters, her imagination. As much as people are sick and tired of her writing fated mates, I’m equally tired of reading about triangles where the only convincing thing that pulls a female to the "darker" version is simply because they are drawn to them "for whatever reason."

She did that already. It was Feysand. Rhys was her mate so it's a damn good reason for being drawn to him.

I think I’ve given enough chances and read enough Pro-E/riel metas that I’m still not convinced why Azriel, who treats Gwyn more like the other males treat their endgames in her other series, would end up with Elain over Lucien. We don’t have a Gwyn equivalent for Lucien, and Vassa is no longer a factor now that Lucien knows she has little time left and decides to come up to Velaris for Solstice.

It’s like what you said—SJM had the opportunity in HOFAS to give us a way to let go of Elucien/Gwynriel, but she dug deeper into her mating lore. The Cauldron had been refashioned into the world's kill switch, but we know that all mating bonds come from a higher being. Bryce didn’t see her own mating bond while holding Truth-Teller, so how is Azriel going to cut Elucien’s? Slicing the air between Elain and Lucien? lol.

So, with all that, if Tamlin-Feyre-Rhys, Ithan-Bryce-Hunt, and Dorian-Celaena-Chaol are her examples of triangles, we know she has a clear demarcation line of when one relationship ends and another begins. She made Ruhn and Hypaxia pretty clear they weren’t endgame, and let me tell you, my fake-dating heart was broken with Bryce and Cormac (they didn't even fake date!).

SJM loves her bait-and-switches and surprises when it comes to endgames, but she’s been consistent in showing the "why" behind each pairing. She doesn’t let someone go without the female having an epiphany, and if you remove the mating bond from any couple, there’s still that "Like Calls to Like" foundation between them.

I was shocked when Elain and Lucien were revealed as mates in ACOMAF, and ACOSF just confirmed that they’re still developing. I don’t need to know how Elain and Lucien are doing in ACOSF when I know Azriel had a difficult time with Elain, only to end the bonus chapter happy with Gwyn.

If SJM retcons that, then I’d seriously question her planning, and I might be better off letting the series go altogether.

Thanks for asking! I hope this was helpful!

[kingofthecotas]

fractures | read on ao3

marc & pecco, phillip island 2024 | ~800 words

happy divorciversary! i guess this is a series now so part 1, part 2

——

Valentino might kill him.

With Marc to his right, shooting him a sideways smile, Pecco can’t bring himself to care.

“Can you do me a favour?” he asks, like the shadow of it isn’t still hanging over him, over Marc, over the growing picture of next year. The journalists are loving it, tangibly eager—and confused, waiting, because they’d hoped he would bite but not like that.

Marc looks back at him, says, “Today, yes,” like it’s funny. Like he hadn’t barged past Pecco in the same corner he’d pushed through on Jorge. “I take five points.”

It’s true. It’s also an afterthought, a symptom of going for the win.

And then it all crashes down on Pecco, ice over his head, trickling down his spine. Valentino was so wrong.

He blinks, tries to stutter out something like he was going for the win, he wasn’t thinking about 2015, he wasn’t thinking about me, it was a good chance, that’s all it was.

That’s all it was.

Because that’s Marc. He races. He wants to win. That’s it. He’ll beat lap records, he’ll push past other riders, because he wants to win.

And that’s all. Nothing more than that.

Marc finishes the press conference, smile bright and sharp, laser-focused. He collects his helmet and the water bottle by his stool. Pecco hovers, a sick knot in his stomach, and follows Marc into the corridor.

He feels like Valentino is following him.

But no, it’s just him and Marc, the chatter of the press room a muffled hum once again. They’re making a habit of this.

Marc throws him another smile. “I was hoping you would follow.”

Pecco has enough left in him to raise his eyebrows. “Were you?”

“Better for me if you take points away from him.”

The race. Pecco snorts. Of course. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Ah, well, I helped you, no?”

“Not on purpose.”

And Marc beams, like Pecco has finally cracked the puzzle. “You understand the game now, yes?”

Pecco swallows. Thinks of Valentino nine years ago, curled around his version of events like a dragon guarding his gold, the remnants of his tenth. It’s evaporating in front of his eyes. “Hard racing.”

“Hard racing,” Marc agrees. “It is always about us somehow, Pecco.”

Of course it is. Of course it always will be. Valentino didn’t tell them that; Pecco is finding it out regardless. “I know.”

He knows. No matter what he does, he’s building on the foundations of them.

“Mm.” Marc cocks his head, sizes up his prey.

Ten years ago, in Tavullia, he’d watched Valentino with the same expression, dangerous and hungry—and so fucking earnest. Of course he went for the win. Of course he went for the track record. He’s Marc.

“They’ll keep asking things like this,” Marc continues. “They like their story. Round two.”

Pecco shrugs. “I will answer the same.”

“Will you?”

“It’s the truth, yes?”

And something—something opens in Marc’s face, cracks. Like he’s—like Pecco has taken him by surprise.

Pecco should push now, exploit the weakness. Bite down until he tastes blood and splinters bone. He should feel smug.

He doesn’t. It’s heavy. Marc’s expression sets his teeth on edge, jagged in all the wrong directions; not the same rough corners he refused to sand down until it was already too late, but something deep turned outwards, just for a second. Load-bearing fractures.

Right arm, broken and broken again in just the right way: something he works around, worked through with gritted teeth. Everything he had with Valentino, turned needle-sharp and poisonous, wound into the very foundations of him. Marc is nothing but pieces of himself pulled back together and reforged into a deadlier weapon than before.

Pecco could strike: something tells him he’d regret it, one way or another.

So Pecco hesitates, long enough for the walls to be hastily shored up. It’s something, something he could cling to when they’re both wearing red next year. First blood.

The phantom weight of Valentino’s hand, the rueful downturned smile after Portimão, the easy cut of his words when he talks about Marc—when he warns Pecco about Marc—it all sits behind his eyelids, second nature.

Marc is going to race him. He knew that already. Sometimes Marc will beat him. Pecco will just have to be faster.

And that’s all.

“Marc,” he says, and thinks of Valentino again. (He thinks of Marc, looking him up and down: you’re not him.) “Well done today.”

No slip this time, but a smile, softer than usual. “For the five points, yes?”

“Of course,” Pecco retorts, his own smile pulling up despite himself. “Better to be second and third, for me. This is the only reason you did it.”

“Of course.” Like it’s funny. Like his papered-over cracks are nothing but a sore memory. “Maybe I am Italian now. Helping you, no?”

Pecco snorts. “No.”

Another smile, snagged and cutting as a broken blade. “No.”

[becausebuckley]

please write 26 for buddie!

thanks so much anon!! i hope you like how it turned out <3

26. "I just can't believe that you really chose me, that's all." from this list of prompts - i'm still taking prompts!

It’s kind of new, this thing with Eddie.

Well, kind of new, but at the same time, not new at all. If he’s honest with himself – which he tries to be, these days – Buck knows they’ve been heading here for years. He can trace their relationship through shared beers and deep conversations, through sweaters in each other’s closets and quick little looks before rescues. Buck thinks that maybe they’ve been building this since that very first shift, the grenade falling in the box and something in Buck’s heart slotting into place at the same time. 

It’s been a long time coming, and yet, it happened so suddenly Buck never saw it coming at all.

Now, a few weeks into the relationship Buck knows is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, they’re settling in. The honeymoon period isn’t over, not by a long shot – Buck kind of doubts it’ll ever be, that anything will ever feel normal and not sugar coated, rose-coloured lenses, now that he’s with Eddie – but it’s turning into something more steady, less new. Something solid. A foundation for the rest of their lives. This might not be the first time he’s spent the night in Eddie’s bed, but it’s the first time that makes Buck feel like this is it, now. This is their new normal. Their forever.

He’s lying on his back, wearing nothing but his boxers and an old shirt of Eddie’s that stretches over his broad shoulders. Eddie’s arm is slung over his waist, head pillowed on Buck’s chest, and their legs are tangled in the bedsheets. It’s late, or maybe early, Buck doesn’t know, and he suddenly feels so happy he kind of stops breathing a little bit.

Eddie makes a grumpy noise and burrows his head further into Buck. Something Buck has delighted in over these past few weeks is discovering all of Eddie’s cat-like tendencies. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if his boyfriend – and oh, the thrill that word brings him – turned out to purr.

“Why aren’t you asleep,” Eddie mumbles into the fabric of Buck’s shirt. 

Buck’s arm tightens around him, thumb rubbing up and down Eddie’s side. His lungs fill with air once more. 

“How did you know I wasn’t sleeping?” He counters, though he probably sounds entirely too awake to sell it. 

Eddie lifts his head at that. His hair is mussed and floppy, his eyes are half-closed, and he still pulls off an incredibly unimpressed eyebrow raise. Buck has never been more in love with him.

“Fair enough,” Buck says. “It’s nothing, really. I was just thinking.”

“Dangerous.” Eddie drops his chin back on Buck’s chest. 

Buck huffs out a half-offended laugh in reply.

“About what, though?” Eddie asks. The skin between his eyebrows creases up, like he’s preparing himself for something serious. Buck can’t blame him, really. These first few weeks, golden as they may have been, have also revealed some insecurities they’d both had hidden away over the years. They’re not without their jagged edges, but as they’ve learned, they’re pretty good at navigating the rough parts together, at knowing when to smooth them over and when to let them be.

This isn’t that, though, and Buck barely resists the urge to take his thumb to Eddie’s brow and rub out the crease. And really, the only reason he resists that urge is that he only has one free hand, and he’s a little busy using it to reach for Eddie’s hand and lace their fingers together.

“Nothing much,” Buck says. He frowns. “No, that’s not true, actually. It’s kind of everything. I just- I just can’t believe you really chose me, that’s all.”

The crease on Eddie’s forehead smoothes out as he tightens his arm on Buck’s waist. 

“Of course I chose you,” he says easily. “Who else would it be?”

And Buck could make a joke there, could point out what a catch Eddie is, how lucky others would be to date him, but he knows that that would be besides the point, so he doesn’t. He just tightens his arm around Eddie, pulls him in even closer. Lifts their intertwined fingers to his mouth and presses a kiss to one of Eddie’s knuckles.

It couldn’t be anybody else. It’s them.

It’s always been them.

[according2thelore]

happy wincest wednesday! my question for this week's round table (lol) is: what's your ideal for sam and dean's "apple pie" life? would they settle down and retire with each other, or would they keep hunting? who does the cooking, who does the cleaning (do they even know how to clean?), do they hide the fact that they're brothers or are they the freaky incest bros down the street? do they have kids (mpreg or adoption)? pets? i'm curious about any and all ideas you have :) (@incesthemes)

hi! happy (late) wincest wednesday! omg round table i love that! (so late it's brotherfucker friday, whoops!)

charlotte: I think my ideal was no joke our “now it’s perfect” fic—we headcanoned EVERYTHING we wanted into that baby. I think they would have horses maybe? I could see dean getting into that and sam making fun of him for it. I think sam cleans and dean cooks—obvi. I think that they hide the fact that they’re brothers for SURE. I honestly see them as DINKs for a while and maybe adopting or fostering some teenagers to pay it forward for all of their time in/around the system.

lizzy: hii! i think best-case scenario they stop hunting full-time. i'd like to see them as bobby-esque figures that only pitch in on small, low-stakes hunts and are mostly lore-givers and assign other hunters to hunts. assuming canon happens, except dean survives the barn in 15x20, sam does not want him anywhere NEAR anything above a small salt-and-burn. that i think would spur their "retirement." but i want the majority of their life to be silly and finding hobbies and doing dumb things because they deserve it!!!

i want them to move out of the bunker and build a house from scratch/make necessary adjustments to an existing house to monster-proof it (i.e., salt in the foundation, holy water sprinklers, devil's trap underneath the floorboards in every doorway, iron window frames/door handles), but keep it still a home. i want these men to get fresh air and at least two windows, as a treat.

sam very much does the cleaning, and dean does the cooking. sam is a serviceable cook, but they both like it better when dean does it. dean's a tidier (e.g., throwing a blanket over mess so he can't see it), while sam is more of a proper cleaner.

in my dream world, they wear rings 🥺 i know, it's shmoopy, but i think it's easier for them than trying to explain everything they are to each other. they go to a bar and sam gets hit on and he gets to flash his ring instead of awkwardly trying to explain that dean is his "boyfriend" like they're in the tenth grade. so i don't think they tell people they're brothers. they never truly say what they are, and don't correct people when they assume they're married. they're the winchesters. that's all there is to it.

a part of me i have never been able to kill wants dean to be a girl dad. i want to see him wear a little tiara and try not to look miserable while his daughter pours him his eleventh cup of "tea." he would be gone, whipped, done-zo. he screams his head off at every ballet recital. he gets so into her soccer games that he gets kicked out more than once for trying to fight the ref. some girl calls her a weirdo at school and sam has to pin him down because dean is in actual danger of hurting a five-year-old.

realistically i don't think they have kids (unless they stumble across an orphaned-by-monsters kid that reminds them a little too much of each other), but are mentor and/or parental figures to young hunters or kids that live around them. HOWEVER, if one of them can get pregnant, they WILL get pregnant. i don't make the rules. it's very much a war-is-over kind of decision that now they're finally free, they want to give each other this.

they keep miracle of COURSE. dean loves that dog. they dress him up for halloween every year, and the kids that come to their house love it when he sits out on the porch dressed like a lore-accurate chupacabra. sam and dean sit on the porch, too, of course, shot guns tucked under their chairs like good neighborhood watch dogs. i think dean would actually respect the fuck out of a cat, and the cat would ADORE sam, so i want them to find a silly little wet scrungly gutter kitten that sam brings home and begs dean to keep. he's always had such a soft spot for animals and i want him to have a witchy familiar-vibed cat that also demands sleeping directly on dean's neck.

this was so much. lol. sorry!

thank you so much for this ask!!!! we had a lot of fun thinking/chatting about it! :)

-charlotte & lizzy

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap- Chapter 16

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so. Also, this chapter's a little longer since I likely won't be able to upload this Friday due to work commitments.

Potential Trigger Warnings: none

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Stella’s house is a bustle of energy by 10am. The hair stylist and make up artist are setting up while the photographer is milling around getting photos of the dress and accessories as they get laid out. Me, Stella and the bridesmaids are all sipping fresh coffees as we try to wake up. The excitement is definitely in the air, but so is the tiredness from the early wake up call. I lay out some freshly baked breakfast snacks, kindly donated by Stewie for the big day; while he declined to do the cake weeks ago, once he got back in the kitchen he promised to provide some light snacks for the morning. We are all thankful for his contribution, as none of us feel like cooking. 

Felicity and Gabriella are the first in the chairs; while they of course want to spend the most time on the bride, it’s also important that she’s the freshest. I enjoy sitting back, relaxing and snacking while I wait for my turn. While I wait, I scroll through my photos for the hair and makeup inspiration pics I took offline and then connect up to Stella’s bluetooth speaker and put on some music to boost the mood. The stylists start some small talk about the bride and groom, how they met, the bachelorette party, the plans for tonight, anything they can think of to build the excitement. We all join in, sharing happy and funny stories. 

After a while, Stella and I are finally sitting side-by-side as the stylist brushes and curls her hair and the beautician applies foundation to my face. It’s everything I could have dreamed it would be, and I can’t help but hope that one day the roles are reversed and she’s by my side while they’re styling my hair for my wedding. I push the thought away before I can imagine any other parts of that fictional day, like who the groom could be. Instead, I root myself in the present, wanting to enjoy this day for what it is: one of the best days of my best friend’s life and so by default, mine.

A few hours later, me and the bridesmaids are helping eachother into our dresses carefully, trying our best not to disturb our hair and makeup. The stylists are still standing around on standby to complete any final touchups, but we all know there isn’t time for a redo if we mess anything up too much. Once we’re all dressed, we finally help Stella into her snow-white ballgown-style wedding dress. I help straighten out the off-shoulder straps over her biceps, ensuring the sequins don’t scratch her, while Felicity carefully kneels down to fluff out the skirt. I then pull her hair out from where it caught in the back of her dress and smooth it out along her back, careful not to catch or pull on her perfectly styled curls and bun. 

When I come back around in front of her I take both of her hands in mine. “So beautiful, Nick isn’t gonna know what hit him.” The bridesmaids agree with me, gushing over the fully-dressed bride. We all put on the final touches like our shoes and jewellery while the stylists check and touch up our hair and makeup as necessary, just before we’re interrupted by a car horn outside. I look over at Stella with a big smile, “Time to go marry yourself a husband!”

Stella squeals with excitement. We collect our bouquets and purses and head outside. There are two classic cars in the driveway all decorated up; one for me and Stella and one for the other two bridesmaids. I help Stella in, being sure not to crumple her dress or veil or get it caught in the door when I shut it behind her, I then round the car and get in the other side. The bridesmaid’s car pulls out first and then ours follows a close distance behind. Stella’s knee bounces all the way to the chapel. I let her squeeze my hand as she tries to steady her nervous excitement. 

When the cars pull up out the back, the carpark is already full and her parents are waiting by the door. I get out and then help Stella out before straightening out her dress and making sure she looks perfect. I then hand her over to her parents. They pull her in for a big hug as I step to the side with Felicity and Gabriella. The three of us walk inside and stand just behind the doors in a line as one of the organisers explains the process to us, despite having gone through a full rehearsal last night. I smile back at Stella, standing between her parents as I hear the bridal march begin to play through the chapel. As the organisers push open the large wooden doors everyone stands and turns around. Felicity and Gabriella start to walk down the aisle first, followed by me and then finally Stella and her parents. As I look up at Nick I can see the tears in his eyes as he focuses on his beautiful bride. I smile brighter. Once I reach the front I step to the side and face the crowd as I watch Stella step up to her husband-to-be. He kisses her cheek and takes her hands as her parents pass her to him. I step forward to take her bouquet before standing back to the side. She gives me a grateful smile before focusing fully on her groom and I just know that everyone else has fallen away in their minds and it’s just the two of them there together.

The ceremony is beautiful, it goes perfectly according to plan, just as everything in their life does. The celebrant welcomes everyone and starts the ceremony before prompting them to share their personalised vows. They both share their promises and words of love through teary eyes before exchanging their rings. Then, after sharing a passionate kiss, they run hand-in-hand back down the aisle, out the wooden doors and into a waiting car. Everyone follows behind to see them off. We wave excitedly as they zoom off for a private photoshoot before the reception. As everyone mills around outside and chats, I try to emerse myself in idle conversation to pass time. The doors to the restaurant won’t open for a little while so we need to pass time. Eventually, once the sun is beginning to set everyone starts to file into their cars and make their way over to the venue; I want to be in there and set up before the bride and groom make their big entrance. Gabriella, Felicity and I catch a ride with Travis in the hire car they came in, Travis rode with the groom so is happy to drive the rental with us. 

The restaurant is beautifully decorated, just as we left it. With party favours on each table and stunning centrepieces, made up of flower arrangements. Each seat is labelled to match the seating plan that I’d painstakingly helped Stella and Nick create to ensure the smoothest night possible. Most people get along, but every family has those few people that are best kept apart for whatever reason. Everything is exactly as I remember except a small stage set up in the corner with a sound system and instruments. Despite no one being near them, quiet music is playing behind the chatter of everyone’s conversations about how great the service was and how beautiful everything is and just catching up in general. It’s amazing how weddings can bring everyone together, I see people you haven’t spoken to in years. Of course, I don’t no many people there, but that’s okay, today’s not about me. I’m just thrilled for Stella. 

I visit the bar and order a wine to get my night started before I move around the room doing my best to mingle and chat with her family and a few of our shared friends from college that I haven’t spoken to in a while. Most of them have partners accompanying them, but a few are single. After a while, everyone finally takes their allocated seats. A few gasps and whispered chatter ring out around the room seconds before live music starts to play from behind me. Just as I’m about to turn around everyone starts to cheer as the bride and groom make their big entrance. I join them clapping and cheering as yI give them the biggest smile as they make their way – the long way around – to their seats in the middle of the bridal table. It’s only when I turn to look over at Stella and Nick that I catch the band in my peripheral vision and my jaw drops. 

I force myself to keep my focus on the lovely new couple and not make eye contact with the man expertly strumming his guitar from the small stage. The raging ball of guilt in my stomach does a sommersault and I feel sick but push it back down. Thankfully, Travis takes the attention of the room by standing up to toast the newly weds and give a short speech. I keep my eyes firmly on him as he speaks. Once he finishes he nods over to me as he introduces me for the maid-of-honor speech. It takes me a moment to acknowledge him. But once I get ahold of myself, I stand up and focus on my notes as I attempt to deliver the speech smoothly. I push everything else out of my mind for those painfully slow few minutes as I focus on the bride and groom and tell stories about mine and Stella’s friendship and how happy I am that she found Nick and how happy I hope and know they’ll be together as they move into this next stage in their life. I finally raise my glass and everyone cheers. I wink at Stella as I sit down.

Before the meals are set to come out, Stella informs me that she needs to use the bathroom. I follow her in and help her lift up the massive skirt and keep it from getting dirty while she uses the toilet.

“Was that your doing?” I ask as she pees.

“I told you, I got an offer that I couldn’t refuse. Plus, Dean Winchester was my crush first. How could I turn that down. I don’t know what happened or didn’t between the two of you, but he was very persuasive.”

“How? I didn’t…”

“I don’t know how he figured it out but maybe three days ago the venue called me and said someone had offered to play for the wedding, they gave him my number. And as I said, he was very persuasive.” I help Stella fix her dress while she washes her hands. “It’s my wedding, I got a band that I happen to love. If that also results in my best friend getting her plus one and a dance then that’s just a bonus. I hope you know that I expect a full, detailed explanation of everything that has already gone down and everything that goes down while I’m on my honeymoon, once I get back.”

“We’ll see. For now, tonight’s about you! So let’s get you back out there to your husband!” Ilead her back to the table just in time for the alternative drop meals to be delivered. After dinner, each of their parents and a few other guests give speeches before handing back over to the bride and groom to give their speeches to each other. I engross yourself in the speeches to keep my eyes from wandering to the back of the room. Although amongst all the kind words and talk of eternal love I notice that the background music isn’t being played by a live guitar anymore but instead is a quiet pre-recorded romance track. With that revelation, I let my eyes wander and I notice the stage is free of people. Knowing he’s no longer so close behind me, at least for a few minutes I relax slightly. 

By the time all the speeches are over, the band’s back in place playing quietly as Stella and Nick stand in the centre of the room to cut their cake. As the knife scrapes the plate, they kiss and everyone cheers. The staff then come in to take the cake to the kitchen to slice it up and prepare the desserts. My attention is instantly drawn to the band when I hear Jensen’s deep voice sing the first notes to the song Stella picked for their first dance. I’mamazed that he either already knew it or learned it in just a few days. Stella and Nick take eachother’s hands and move slowly in time with the music. I watch as they gracefully move across the floor. Her head rests on his shoulder as he leads. 

As the song ends and the next one starts Felicity and Gabby nudge me and I quickly stand up and take hands with Travis as he leads me to the floor, followed by the two bridesmaids and groomsmen. I do my best to throw myself into the dance and focus on Travis as he leads me, dancing surprising well for what I know of him. Once the song ends I try to pull back but he holds me close. “I know the kind of man you know me to be, but I promised I wouldn’t let you dance alone or sit out tonight.”

“You didn’t have to do that…I’m okay.”

“I did…Stella’s surprisingly scary.” 

I smile and nod, prepared to let him lead me into the next song. But as the next song starts I notice the voice filling the room is different. Someone comes up behind us and places a hand on my shoulder. “Mind if I have this dance?”

I flick my head around to look at the owner of the deep, Texan drawl. 

Travis looks at me to check and I nod. “Alright,” he says as he steps back, “She’s all yours.”

I smile at Travis as he walks off to find someone else to dance with before spinning around and taking Jensen’s hands and letting him sway me with the slow beat. In a hushed voice I say, “I can’t believe you’re here…”

“You stopped answering my messages or calls…What choice did I have?”

“To forget me…Move on?”

He shakes his head. “I know this isn’t the time or place to have the conversation we need to have, so will you meet me tomorrow?” I meet his eyes briefly and nod. “Good, then let’s just enjoy this dance.” I rest my head on his shoulder for the remainder of the song. Just before the song ends he spins me out and back into his chest. “I promised the bride a dance, so I should go. But thank you. I plan to steal another from you later.”

“Yeah, she’s a pretty big Dean fan…She couldn’t believe I didn’t know you.” 

He lets out a little chuckle, “Yeah, you’re rare and special. Save another dance for me later?” I nod and he pulls away and crosses the floor to where Stella and Nick are playfully dancing to the now upper-tempo song. When Jensen cuts into their dance Nick comes over to me. We both stand off to the side, leaning against the bridal table. 

“Hey, so, uh…I owe you an apology,” he says, breaking the awkward silence.

“Nah, it’s alright. You were just looking out for your bride, as you should. I’d be more mad if you didn’t.”

“Maybe, but I did go overboard. I just get protective when it comes to her…But I should’ve known pushing you away would make her mad too. I’m just glad she didn’t call today off.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t, she loves you. And she knows you were acting from a place of love when you did it. So do I. Plus…you weren’t all wrong, but this isn’t the time or place. We should get back out there before your bride physically drags us out there herself.”

“Yeah…thanks for helping make all this happen by the way. I don’t think I ever told you, but you’ve been a massive help. That’s another reason I’ve felt so bad for what I said, despite what I said you kept turning up and helping with everything. You already know she appreciates it, but I do too.”

I look around the room. “I’m just glad it all worked out. You guys deserve a fantastic night.” Not sure what else to say, I take his hand and lead him out onto the dancefloor.

Jensen moves back and forth between the stage and the dancefloor, doing his job performing but also giving the people what they want and dancing with any girl who recognises him. The night’s almost wrapping up by the time he gets back to me. I’m leaning against the wall finishing a glass of wine when he come up to me.

“So, I was just informed the next song’s the last…care to join me?” He holds his hand out to me expectantly. 

I finish the last mouthful of wine, put the empty glass on the nearest table and take his hand. After everything I’ve said and done and after he pushed so hard to be here, I feel you owe it to him, but also I really want to be in his arms again. He leads me into the middle of the room as his bandmate starts to play and sing a slower love song. He pulls me close, his hands resting on the middle of my back, not letting them fall too low. Mine rest around his neck as we sway in time with the music. As the song goes on, he starts to sing along quietly, just loud enough for me to hear. 

“I've been waitin' for so long

For somethin' to arrive

For love to come along

Now our dreams are comin' true

Through the good times and the bad

Yeah, I'll be standin' there by you

Baby you're all that I want

When you're lyin' here in my arms

I'm findin' it hard to believe

We're in heaven

And love is all that I need

And I found it there in your heart

It isn't too hard to see

We're in heaven”

Once the song ends he pulls back, but only far enough that he can make eye contact with me. “Give me a chance…let me come over, or come to my hotel, or meet me somewhere neutral, location doesn’t matter, just please…for whatever reason I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Jens…”

“I’m just asking to talk.”

I nod. “Alright, but somewhere private. We don’t need a repeat of last time, tonight’s gonna be bad enough.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” I hear Stella say from behind us. I pull away from Jensen to face her.

“Congratulatious on the big night. I hope you had a great time,” he says to Stella.

“Thank you. And thank you for coming and playing for us tonight, it was much better than a jukebox. Plus, you made a lot of people’s nights,” she looks at me with a smirk, “Most of all my amazing maid-of-honor here, and believe me, she totally deserved a great night after all the hard work she’s put into making it happen.”

He looks at me and smiles, “Yeah. Well anyway, I better help Steve pack up the gear.”

Once Jensen’s out of ear-shot, Stella says, “I’m so sorry for interrupting, that seemed important, but Nick and I are gonna head out, but I couldn’t disappear on my honeymoon without saying goodbye to you first, and thanking you for everything.”

“I’m just glad you had a great night,” I pull her in for a hug.

When she pulls away she reaches over for her bouquet on the bridal table. “Amid everything I forgot to do the toss, but…” She hands it to me. “Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.”

“Stel…” I shake my head while smiling at her, “Just go and enjoy your honeymoon. We’ll talk when you get back.”

As Nick approaches, she quickly says, “I’m definitely gonna do that! Thank you, I love you and I’ll talk to you in 10 days!”

He wraps his arms around her waist as he comes up behind her. “You two have fun!”

The remaining guests wave the happy couple out as they run out hand-in-hand. Everyone else filters out pretty quickly after that but I hang around to gather some of the decorations and items that I know Stella will want to keep, such as photos, the wishing well, and the guestbook. Just as I finish getting everything important into a couple of boxes, Jensen comes back up beside me. “Need a hand?”

“I can manage, you should go.”

Felicity call out from the doorway, “Hey Y/N, need a ride? My Uber’s here!”

I look over at her and then back at Jensen apologetically. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Uh, yeah…” he nods, and I pick up one of the boxes but he puts his hand on it to stop me as I turn around. “ Unless, you wanna stay back for a night cap, I can call you a ride after. It doesn’t have to be with me, I can get you your own.”

I hesitate and Felicity calls out again, “Y/N! He’s getting impatient. We gotta go!”

I look between her and Jensen again and then sigh before waving at her and calling out. “You go. I gotta finish up here.”

She rolls her eyes at my hesitation before disappearing outside.

Obviously feeling guilty for putting me in a difficult position, Jensen takes his hand off the box in my hands and apologises.

“It’s fine. I would’ve had to do a few trips and they wouldn’t have liked that either. But I can get my own ride, it’s fine. And, uh, I think they’re gonna kick us out, so the night cap’s probably gonna be out too, sorry.” I look around and notice it’s just the two of us left inside. I put the box back on the table to rest my arms for a moment.

“Alright. How much are you against getting a ride together at least? I don’t wanna overstep or anything. I just want more time,” He gestures at the boxes, “Plus, I could give you a hand with all this.”

I bite my lip as I consider his offer. “Listen, I’m too tired and too tipsy and this is gonna come out all wrong, but I just need you to know that just because you came all this way doesn’t mean I’m going to have sex with you.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times as he tries to come up with a response. “No, I…I don’t expect you to…That’s not…I wasn’t insinuating.”

I nod. “Alright good. A ride and the boxes. That’s it then. I just need your arms.” I pick up a box and then realise what I said. “That’s not…I just mean…”

“I get it. It’s fine. Let me just call my driver and then I’ll give you a hand with those.” He pulls out his phone.

“Your…driver?” I shake my head. “It must be nice…”

“It’s not what you think. He’s a good friend.” Jensen shakes his head as he holds his phone up to his ear. “Hey Clif…Yeah, I’m ready if you just wanna pull up round back…Yeah…” he glances back over at me with a smile. “We need to make a stop on the way though…Yep, I’ll cover it…See you soon.” He hangs up and leans against the table looking at me before he grabbing the other box and walking out to the parking lot with me. 

While we wait for his friend to bring the car around, he says, “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been too forward or given the wrong signals. I don’t mean to. I didn’t come all this way to attempt to win you over for sex…I just wanted to give you a reason to talk to me. As I said, I can’t stop thinking about you, and I couldn’t leave things the way we did.”

A large black car pulls up in front of us and a tall, muscular man gets out of the driver’s seat and opens the trunk. Jensen puts his box in and I follow suit. Jensen then opens the back door for me to climb in. I slide over to the far side and he climbs in beside me. Once the driver takes his seat again he turns around, “Where to boss?”

“You can drop the act Clif, she knows you’re a friend.”

“Alright, Boss. Where to?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and then looks over at me. I tell them my address and Clif keys it into the GPS. Despite wanting to use the time to respond to Jensen’s confession outside the restaurant, I feel awkward with his friend in the front seat. Between the nervous energy and the adrenalin in my system, my leg starts to bounce. Jensen notices and after hesitating a few times, finally places his hand on my knee; he doesn’t slide it any higher, just sits it comfortingly on the top of my knee. We endure the rest of the ride in silence until Clif finally finds a park on the street in front of my apartment building.

“Am I waiting?” Clif asks.

Jensen looks at me, smiles and then nods. “I’m just gonna help her with those boxes, I’ll be right back.” I open my door and Jensen follows suit. He opens the trunk and we each take a box and then I lead him inside to the lift.

As I press the button, I look up at him. “You can just leave it, I can manage from here.”

“You don’t want me to see your place?”

“Honestly? Not really…But also, you’ve done more than enough.”

The lift dings as the doors open. He steps inside first, leaving me no choice but to follow. I put the box on the floor so I can press the button for my floor. Once the doors shut he says, “So, am I crazy? Am I chasing something that you’re never gonna be ready for?”

“No. I just have things I need to work through. Trust issues, personal issues, financial issues…Look I’m too tired for this conversation tonight. I know you came all this way, but…”

“Yeah, I came all this way and put you on the spot, which is exactly what I promised I wouldn’t do. I’m sorry.” The doors open and I lead him down to my apartment but stop in front of the door. I pull my keys out of my purse but don’t move to unlock the door. Sensing my uncertainty he places the box on the floor by my feet. “Take the night. I don’t want to push you. Just text me in the morning and let me know what you decide. I will step back completely if that’s what you want or need. But if you want to give us a chance, text me somewhere to meet and we can talk. Okay?”

I nod as I fiddle with the keys. He nods and turns and walks back down the hall to the elevator. I look down at the boxes and notice Stella’s bouquet sticking out the top; her words ring through my head. I look back over at Jensen just as the doors open. I call out, “Meet me at the cafe, 6pm!”

He smiles, nods and then steps inside. Once the doors close I let myself into my apartment, cart in the boxes and dump them in the corner. Not having the energy – physical or mental – to wash off my makeup, undo my hair or shower, I collapse on the couch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

[onboardsorasora]

Honestly, I think my favourite thing is looking through writing prompts. I loved this one

You are getting desperate. You have already tried everything and your husband still thinks you are just a really dedicated cosplayer, not a fairy.

Daniel sighed gustily as he walked outside with his coffee mug and took in what looked like another lack of offering on the brand new altar. He’d hoped that by creating a dedicated space that was clearly altar-like and inviting, that Max would have gotten the hint by now. 

He pouted, of course he’d have to go fall in love with the one human who didn’t believe in fairies. It had been cute at first and what kept him coming back to the surface to see Max. To follow him around, keeping other creatures from encroaching on what was his. It was refreshing to not be feared and to be treated not like he could like wipe out a whole bloodline or whatever. But the longer they were together, Daniel was realizing that Max thought this was all a joke. A fantasy.

He hadn’t realized what a big deal it had been when Daniel had finally told him his name. Max had offered his up within the first minute of them ‘officially’ meeting. It wasn’t until after they were living together that things started to become clear.

‘Oh Daniel, I didn’t even hear when you got up early this morning. Do you reapply your make up daily? What do you look like without it?’ 

‘It’s not makeup Maxy, this is what I look like?’ Daniel glanced dubiously in the mirror at his kohl eye markings and the runes and hieroglyphs that marked up his arms like tattoos. His ears were pointed for forest’s sake and his skin absorbed the sun.

‘Oh, well I accept your choices. It is of course your body.’ Max had left it at that and Daniel had been confused.

Daniel had begun to wonder if Max knew charms and spells because what other reason would there be for a fairy to willingly leave everything they knew to live above ground with a human who refused to even do the most basic things. Max broke fairy rings so often that Daniel just stopped making them on the property.

‘Daniel, why are there all these flower circles in the garden. They are beautiful but a bit much I think.’

‘Maxy, what? They’re fairy rings. They're here because I’m here– so I can visit home easier.’ Daniel was confused. Max looked confused for a second before his face smoothed out into one of understanding. Daniel had started to fear that look.

‘I do suppose they are pretty to look at when you are on the phone with your mother.’

And after that devastation, Max had left it alone.

Daniel glared at the marble altar, he’d thought it was so beautiful. Imagined how lovely it would have been to get offerings on it– how happy it would have made him. But Max had nipped that in the bud.

‘You want me to buy you gifts and place them out there instead of just giving them to you?’ Max had looked at him like it was the dumbest thing Daniel had ever told him. And Daniel had said some stupid shit before.

‘I– when you say it like that…” Daniel whispered. ‘You’re right– it's silly. Never mind Maxy.’

That had been over a week ago and Daniel had already called for its removal. Maybe they could use the foundation to build a bar or something. Maybe Max would appreciate that.

He turned, ready to head through the garden gate so he could wander his territory when a glint caught his eye from the altar. Whatever it was, wasn’t there before because Daniel usually inspected the slab of marble keenly.

Curiously, he stepped closer. Daniel felt his eyes prickle even as his mouth dropped open in surprise. There in the offertory divot was a small package of sweets, the silver wrapping was what had caught his attention. Daniel touched it reverently, his tattooed hand trembling. 

He hadn’t gotten an offering in so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like. How the rush of energy felt like a power up. He smiled a wet smile and majiked the candy away.

“Bwoah– where did it go?” Max’s voice was so close that Daniel jumped in surprise. He’d been so focused on his offering he hadn’t noticed his boyfriend's presence. Max was looking at him in abject shock, like he’d never seen him before now.

“I–oh! Below.” Daniel said simply, his runes glowed in the sun before going back to their regular state. “Thank you Maxy.” Daniel said, completely heartfelt. He leaned in and kissed his boyfriend before walking away with more than a pep in his step.

Max watched him go– frozen to the spot. He looked between the altar and Daniel a few times before running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that explains a few things.” He mumbled.

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

the little things // ben barnes

Summary: It's the small, consistent demonstrations of love and affection that build the foundation for a successful and long-lasting relationship.

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: lots of fluff

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. This isn’t proofread, so I apologize for any grammatical errors this may have.

main masterlist

As the sun’s rays kissed the room, you slowly opened your eyes and found yourself wrapped in Ben’s arms. He looked so peaceful as he slept, his breathing steady and calm.

You couldn't resist leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, ushering in the start of a new day. A soft groan escaped his lips as he stirred from his slumber, his eyes gradually fluttering open.

“Good morning,” you whispered, a smile forming on your lips.

“Good morning to you too,” he replied, his voice still groggy with sleep.

“How did you sleep?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest with your finger.

“Really well. Especially since I had such a beautiful woman next to me.”

A quick warmth spread across your cheeks as soon as the compliment left his lips. “Stop it,” you said, trying to hide your smile. 

Even after two years of dating, you’d still flush every time he showered you with compliments. Which happened a lot, since Ben loved complimenting you. He never held back when it came to expressing how much he loved you, and how beautiful and talented you were. Among many other things. You also knew he secretly enjoyed having that kind of effect on you. He found it amusing to see you flustered, which added an extra layer of charm to your relationship.

Ben leaned in for a soft kiss on your lips. “I mean it,” he said, looking into your eyes. “I love waking up next to you.”

“I love waking up next to you too,” you replied, nestling your head into the crook of his neck.

You both lay there for a few more minutes, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace. The morning light peeked through the curtains, painting the room with a soft golden hue. Everything was calm and peaceful until the sound of your phone's alarm blasted through the serene atmosphere.

“Ugh, already?” you grumbled, reaching over to grab your phone and turn off the alarm.

Ben chuckled. “Time waits for no one, my love.”

You snuggled deeper into his arms, but you knew that you couldn't stay in bed forever. You let out a groan of protest as you rolled out of bed, making your way to the bathroom. As you brushed your teeth and got ready for the day ahead, Ben sat on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“So, what's on your agenda today?” he asked.

“Just work,” you replied with a sigh. “Same old, same old.”

He nodded in understanding. “Well, when you get back we can cook dinner together and binge-watch our favorite show? How does that sound?”

You smiled at him through the reflection in the mirror. “Perfect.”

As you exited the bathroom and began to get dressed, Ben wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You know I love mornings like this,” he whispered softly in your ear, placing a loving kiss on your neck.

With contentment, you made your way to the kitchen to have breakfast before heading out to work.

You sat at the kitchen table, sipping your coffee while admiring the way the soft morning light danced gently across your boyfriend's face. The sweet aroma of pancakes filled the kitchen as Ben flipped them over in the skillet.

It was moments like these that made you realize that it was the simple things in life that brought the most happiness. All you needed was the warmth of the kitchen, the comforting aroma of breakfast, and the company of your loved one.

“Those pancakes smell amazing.”

Ben smiled as he lifted his gaze from the frying pan. “That’s because I’m making your favorite, blueberry pancakes.” He returned his gaze to the pan, watching the mixture bubble and sizzle. “Just a few more minutes until they're ready.”

“You truly are the sweetest,” you gushed as you took another sip of your coffee.

Ben set two plates of fluffy blueberry pancakes on the table and sat down across from you.

“You know I only cook, so I can see you smile,” he said with a grin.

You laughed, taking a bite of the fluffy pancakes. “Mmm, well, it's working,” you said with a contented sigh. “These pancakes are amazing.”

Ben chuckled. “What can I say? It's my secret recipe.”

You sat in silence for a brief moment, taking bites of your food while lost in thought. Your gaze lifted to meet his and spoke softly. “Do you remember when we first met?”

Your boyfriend looked up from his plate. “Of course I do. Why?”

You smiled, remembering the day you first crossed paths. “It seems like it was ages ago, doesn't it?”

Ben chuckled, “Yeah, it does. But I remember it like it was yesterday. You were wearing a white sundress and had your hair in a messy bun.”

You laughed in surprise, “I can't believe you remember what I was wearing!”

Ben shook his head, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I knew I had to come over and talk to you.”

You felt a rush of warmth spread through you as you recalled that moment. “Thank you for doing that,” you said, reaching across the table to take Ben's hand.

He smiled back, his fingers curling around yours. “I'm glad I did. It was the best decision I've ever made.”

For a few moments, the two of you sat in quiet contemplation, lost in your own memories of those early days together. You remembered the butterflies in your stomach, the nervousness that came with holding hands for the first time, the late-night conversations, and the laughter that filled your home. Even though time had passed, those memories remained crystal clear, reminding you of everything you had built together.

Maintaining and strengthening your relationship over the last two years has not always been easy. Many difficulties have arisen along the way, ranging from trust issues to long-distance problems and personal disagreements. Despite these difficulties, you never gave up on each other or your relationship. You continuously worked on establishing and rebuilding trust and resolving issues through open communication, understanding, and forgiveness. You learned to appreciate the importance of resilience and perseverance in any healthy relationship, and never took each other for granted.

You both understood that a relationship requires hard work, patience, and effort from both parties. You knew that love alone is not enough to sustain a relationship in the long term. It requires constant nurturing and attention, as well as a deep-rooted commitment to make it work.

Your love for each other has only grown stronger over time, and you have learned to cherish and appreciate each other more every day.

“I still can't believe how lucky I am,” Ben finally said quietly.

You looked over at him, feeling grateful for the love that radiated out of every word he spoke.

“I feel the same way,” you replied, your words overflowing with genuine affection. “I can't imagine my life without you.”

Ben stood up from his chair and walked over to your side of the table. “You’ll never have to,” he whispered, as he delicately cradled your face in his hands.

Your faces were mere inches apart, and without any hesitation, Ben leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The gentle caress of his hands against your cheeks sent shivers down your spine.

When you pulled apart, the way Ben gazed at you stirred up a flurry of emotions within your chest. You could feel the words forming on his lips before he even uttered a word.

“I love you,” Ben declared, his voice unwavering. “Always.”

“And I love you,” you said, your eyes shining brightly.

[stellastellaaa]

Finally drew that DOAI oc that i kept telling myself i would make lmfao, ill make a full drawing of her soon maybe like a character sheet idk.

For now heres a small biography :3

Name-Daphne Jun

Age-29

Gender-Female (she/her)

Status-Alive

Race-Asian (of Korean descent)

Work-Unemployed (previously worked as an Archivist for the Lankmann institute)

“I hate this job, and i hate this town. After i graduated college it took me ages to find anything that was actually in my line of work, since Eastridge is so small, I’m surprised there even was a university in the town nearby. I don’t even know why i went back. My mother begged me to stay in town, I love her, I know she means well. But I feel like she and my family are the only things stopping me from leaving this nothing town. I digress, I was offered a job at the Lankmann foundation, whatever they are. It was an archivist job, I should be happy, but im not. Its a weird position. Im in charge of archiving old tapes and documents that Im not even allowed to look at, I have to wear these goggles whenever i leave my office and these weird masked workers keep following me and my coworkers around. Every time i step into that building…I get this sinking feeling in my stomach that something is just..wrong. I shrugged it off for awhile now, just patiently waiting until I could muster up enough money to quit, leave town and get an actual job. Until someone peaked my interest. A new worker named Alex Williams. They were on the news awhile back for being an eye witness of the Eastridge demon. And were apparently brought here as a form of witness protection. They didn’t ever talk to anyone, really no-one talked to each other but Alex especially was incredibly sheltered. That was until the situation with Patient 66, two days after that happened Alex came into my office and asked me if there were any documents I could give them, apparently they wanted to know about the history and motivations of the foundation. I wanted to refuse, this would get me fired, possibly arrested!…But i was too curious, after all I was only allowed to see small excerpts of the documents I archived if I was allowed to see them at all. So i agreed, on the condition that they tell me what they found. What they told me was a bit odd, most of it was useless sure, but it was all incredibly vague. Which was odd to me. Alex has been stopping by my office pretty frequently, mostly to ask me questions i dont know the answers too. Which is a bit irritating, but honestly, I cant blame them I can tell they’re stressed and clearly just want to help these patients. I hope they find what they’re looking for, whatever it is..”

Please ask me questions about her pleaseeee😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼

[dreamylove444]

🌸 The Pink Pilates Princess’ guide to keeping our Bones Beautiful & Strong 🌸

Hey gorgeous! 💕 Have you ever stopped to think about the foundation that holds everything up—your bones? They’re not just what keep us standing tall, but they need a little extra love and care to stay strong as we age. (Especially if you’re a biological female like I am, women are especially vulnerable to oestoperosis) ✨

💖 What is Bone Density?

Bone density is all about how strong and thick your bones are. As we age, bone density naturally decreases, which can make bones more fragile. Osteoporosis is when bones become really weak and at risk of breaking. But guess what? Pilates is here to help keep our bones strong, healthy, and full of life. 🌷

🌸 Pilates & Strong Bones; a match made in heaven:

✨ Weight-Bearing Movements:

Pilates isn’t just about looking cute in your workout gear—it’s about building strength from the inside out. Exercises like standing leg work, squats, and lunges put gentle pressure on your bones, helping to boost bone density and keep them strong.

💖 Muscle Strength = Bone Support:

The stronger your muscles are, the better they can support your bones. Pilates helps you tone and strengthen those muscles, reducing the risk of fractures while keeping your body in beautiful alignment. Strong muscles + strong bones = absolute power. 💪✨

🌷 Balance, Posture, & Grace:

Pilates works wonders on improving balance and posture, which is super important for preventing falls—one of the main causes of fractures, especially as we get older. Pilates is all about moving with grace, but also with confidence and strength. 🩰

🌸 Core Stability for Confidence:

A strong core is everything. It’s the foundation that holds your whole body together, keeping your back and spine in alignment. Pilates strengthens your core, and trust me, when your core is strong, everything else just flows effortlessly. 💕

💗 Tips for Healthy & Pretty Bones:

🌸 Calcium & Vitamin D:

Think of your bones like flowers—they need nutrients to stay strong and vibrant. Calcium (from leafy greens, almonds, and dairy) and vitamin D (get it from sunlight or supplements) are your bone’s best friends. Keep them nourished, and they’ll keep you strong. 🌞🥛

🌷 Stay Active, Stay Radiant:

Whether it’s Pilates, dancing, or just a fun walk, staying active is one of the best ways to preserve bone density. Pilates is a fun, gentle way to keep your bones and muscles happy while also improving flexibility and posture.

💖 Hydrate & Nourish:

Drink plenty of water, and fill your plate with foods that support your bones and body. Bone health isn’t just about exercise—it’s also about taking care of yourself from the inside out. 🌸🍓

You Deserve to Shine, Inside and Out.

Pilates isn’t just about toning your body; it’s about protecting your bones and embracing your strength. So, let’s keep our bones as beautiful and healthy, and that we’re always standing tall with grace and confidence. 💖